


Everything on the Ice

by KeiKatayama



Series: Memoir [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: "Be my coach!", "I want to win the Grand Prix Final Gold Medal", "What do you want?", (Detailed first time), (aka Kitchen Sex), All the favourites come to Hasetsu!, Anxiety, Choreographing, Chris tries to do Intoxicated naked, Christening the Kitchen, Dance Off, Don't Worry by Madcon, Easy Love by Sigala, Exhibition at Ice Castle because why not, First Time, First married dance, Five Times when..., Flashbacks to morning-after, GPF Vancouver, Give Me Your Love, Grief/Mourning, Happily Ever After, Happy Retirement, Hiroshima, Holidays, Honest chats in hotel bars with vodka and water, Hospitals, House Hunting, Katsudon heals everything, King-sized beds, Kumiko Oumae - Euphonium, LGBTQ friendly Canada, Lit(var), M/M, Make up sex, Making Up, Marriage Proposal, Mila also kidnaps everyone for Italian, Mila kidnaps everyone to go clubbing, Mila shows off her lifts, Minami-kun wins Gold, Minor Character Death, Minor sunburn, Moving In Together, NHK Trophy, New York I Love You (2008), Quickie on rooftop in freezing cold, Rostelecom Cup, Sex with ties, Shelter by Porter Robinson, Shinkansen, Sleepovers in living rooms because of shit central heating, Solo Dance by Martin Jensen, Still can't stand King JJ, Sun sea sand sex, The Talk about kids etc, The last quad, Third Time, Vacations, Victor and Christophe have a good catch-up, Victor's writing chair, Who You Really Are by David Arnold & Michael Price, Yuri On Ice by Ketty, Yuri coaches Yurio, Yuri's birthday presents, Yurio skates Yuri On Ice, Yurio vents, commitment ceremony, puppy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 139,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeiKatayama/pseuds/KeiKatayama
Summary: Victor Nikiforov retires from competitive figure skating to focus on his life and love with Yuri Katsuki. They start by going on holiday, buying a house, getting a puppy, and making promises to keep.Then, the season begins... and Nicolai Plisetski passes away. Yuri and Victor bring Yurio back to Hasetsu to grieve... and prepare to win the Grand Prix together.Now heading into the Final...Second Arc of the Memoir series.





	1. Paradise

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

PROLOGUE

April/May

_Paradise_

* * *

* * *

* * *

It was not the golden sun, nor the sound of the waves that woke me. I was surprised to be waking, surprised I had fallen asleep, when Victor inelegantly clambered into my hammock, plucking out my forgotten book from between us and tossing it on to the deck. He giggled as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, readjusted my glasses so his face came back into focus. "Look at you, all worn out. I thought you were supposed to have stamina..."

I rolled my eyes, took him in for a moment. He'd thrown on a shirt with his beach shorts, had his sunglasses nestled in his hair on top of his head, and he smelt of sunblock and aloe vera, for the sunburn he'd gotten on his back and his nose. Remembering his red skin, I pulled him in to kiss him by the back of his head, and he hummed appreciatively. I kissed him once, twice, and then with the third took his breath away, kissing him hard. I grinned up at him as he pulled away, flushed, those blue eyes of his dilated. "Who's got no stamina?"

Victor laughed easily and kissed me back before nuzzling into my collarbone contentedly, shuffling down in the hammock awkwardly until our legs were tangled up, and the hammock swayed from the motion gently. His hair smelt faintly of coconut shampoo.

I was in paradise. Underneath me, white sand started from the decking of our private villa, and stretched towards a sea bluer than Victor's eyes. A breeze stopped it from being hellishly hot, the skies clear bar some white wisps in the distance, blown in the wrong direction away from us. A gecko peered down at me from the veranda roof and then scuttled off shyly, its tail catching the cord of the coconut wind chimes, giving them an extra rattle. And Victor was there in my arms, drawing lazy patterns on my bare chest, his own skin pink and bronze. If I had died and gone to heaven, I wouldn't have noticed; I was there already.

I made yet another mental note to thank Phichit the next time I saw him for the recommendation. Or rather, his girlfriend, who had discovered this place and told Phichit about it.

Koh Ai is a tiny island in the Gulf of Thailand, within sight of the southern tip of Koh Tao. It consists of a single resort, which boasts only a dozen private villas, each with their own private, palm tree lined beaches. The restaurant there is so good people come specifically for the food from Koh Tao, picked up from Freedom Beach or Koh Tao pier near Mae Haad beach, which comes in handy because there's always a boat coming back and forth. We never hassled anyone, getting lifts to and from Koh Tao for the evening if we wanted, which we did frequently.

Our villa faced east, so we got beautiful dawns. But Sairee Beach had exceptional sunsets... we'd go for a drink on the beach, get cocktails with pineapple wedges and umbrellas, watch the sun explode into the horizon. Once dark, we sometimes stayed to watch the fire-shows, get something to eat, even if it was just simple streetfood, get Thai massages maybe. Then, because we were old and past our partying days (I'd never had my partying days and couldn't say I regretted it), leave the backpackers to the loud music, beer pong, terrible dancing and the tattoo parlours, and head back to our villa, close all the curtains, and make love, not needing to care about keeping the noise down.

We had only really intended to stay for a few days, before heading on to Koh Pha-Ngan and Koh Samui. But then we loved the place, and extended our stay to a week. Then another week. Then we both admitted to each other that actually, we didn't want to be living out of our suitcases during our vacation, continually repacking our things to head on to another place. So we unpacked, and the only things to stay in our suitcases were our shoes; we only wore flip-flops anyway.

It was so perfectly simple. Our villa was a haven of smooth wood floors that drummed under my bare feet, with a low four-poster king-sized bed, and an enclosed open air shower, netted off to keep the mosquitoes away, and a gigantic bathtub should we feel the need to soak in hot water (we didn't, thirty degree celsius plus heat remember?). There was a walk-in wardrobe for all the many clothes we never wore because we lived in beach gear, only wearing proper clothes when we went out in the evening. Then, through sliding doors we had our own veranda, all sun-bleached wood and vines, and a table and chairs and the hammock that we could just about both fit in. Then we had yards of pure fine sand before the clear water, with nothing but blue before us. Our nearest neighbours were hidden behind the palm trees; they didn't bother us and we didn't bother them.

The staff got to know us; Somchai, the owner, manager and occasional bartender, was openly and flamboyantly bisexual, and was constantly making us free drinks for being the only gay couple currently staying. He arranged dozens of day trips for us to Koh Pha-Ngan and Koh Samui, to the best beaches and to yoga retreats. He taught us how to barter, recommended that we go to the Half-Moon Festival and not the Full Moon Party on Koh Pha-Ngan (you might be surprised to learn that I actually enjoyed myself. It might have been the vodka-pinapple buckets I shared with Victor, or the fluorescent face paint, or the fake-hibiscus chain he tied round our wrists so we wouldn't lose each other in the crowd, or a combination of all of them. We saw the dawn rise from our boat back to Koh Ai). He told us where we could name-drop him for better rates or services. Through him, we got to know the other guests passing through; they were all mostly straight couples, but by virtue of being a difficult place to find, they were all well-seasoned travellers, from all over the world, all open-minded and with plenty of life stories. Some of them made us, two world champions of figure skating, look normal, inexperienced at life even.

It was amazing; our villa afforded me space, privacy and intimacy for both of us, and for Victor he got to be sociable. We had a vague routine; we'd wake up, go for breakfast - a spread of continental fare, some Thai dishes that tasted amazing but also tasted like lunch - and we'd load up with fresh fruit and yogurt and patongo and sip iced coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. Then, before the sun began in earnest, we'd swim, go for runs round the island, play volleyball with the staff on their breaks or the other guests; be active. Then we'd have lunch, something light like papaya salad, usually by ourselves on our veranda. Then we'd have a siesta of sorts, make love maybe.

The freedom made us both insatiable; the fact that we both spent most of the day barely clothed, in just speedos or swimming shorts made for a constant turn-on. It was the first time in our relationship that we didn't need to worry about anything when it came to our sex-life; when we were competing, we had to be careful not to make each other sore or uncomfortable, and when we were living with my parents we always had to keep the volume down. After his last event, Victor practically kidnapped me from the banquet, dragged me to our room and hissed at me to  _wreck him_. We didn't sleep a lot that night, taking advantage of the thicker walls of our hotel room, and not needing to worry anymore.

I couldn't, and can't, imagine being with anyone else. Victor once asked me, looking terrified of what my answer might be, if I wanted a more open relationship, rushing to explain that he loved me and he didn't want anyone else himself, but that he realised that I had only ever slept with him, that I might be curious at least about what it would be like to sleep with other people. I remember not being able to speak... he got a bit worried then. Then finally I managed to stammer through the only thought in my head. "W-why... why are we t-talking about this?"

He looked at me blankly then, and laughed nervously. "That... that's a good question, heh! Umm..."

"Have I... have I said... something, or... d-done something wro-"

"No, Yuri! No, you haven't... it's..." He then buried his face into his hands, realising he'd made a bit of a mess of things. I wasn't comforted; I was thinking hard of who I might have spoken to or looked at in a way that would have made Victor think that I wanted to sleep around. Victor looked up, about to salvage things, and then instantly frowned at the anxiety on my face. He seized my head and pulled me into him, making our foreheads crash."Yuri. You've done absolutely  _nothing_  wrong, stop thinking that you have. I only asked because..." And he sighed tiredly. I stopped worrying about myself for a moment, worried why he looked so troubled. By then I knew when he was recalling something painful. "Not... not all gay couples are monogamous. We... we don't have to be... it's okay, if you want to explore your eros more. You're only just discovering it... I'd... I'd understand. I don't want you to feel... obligated or... trapped or..."

Victor... _baka_.

I kissed him, to shut him up, to tell him how stupid I thought he was. And then I broke away to tell him that properly. " _You_  are my eros, baka ga."

That was so long ago... when was that? Some time between the Grand Prix and the Four Continents, or was it after the 4CCs? It was our first year together; we had moved to his apartment in St Petersburg, and I was still learning everything about him. That night, after that stupid conversation, sweaty and catching our breath back, I asked him to tell me about his first girlfriend, having begged him not to nearly a year before. By the time I fell, I'd heard so much I regretted it slightly, particularly as I had little to share in return. He made me - obviously, he didn't force me to tell him anything, he just asked and I finally felt like telling, even if I stuttered and blushed all through it - tell him about my old crush on Yuuko, about disconcerting moments, as a student in Detroit, when I stopped to admire that Phichit was cute (Victor agreed, and I remember that I wondered if he was jealous. He held me in his arms a little tighter, I guess). I told him about quiet nights hidden under my duvet struggling to figure out who I was fantasising about, gritting my teeth as the posters in my room sent me over, confusing the hell out of my adolescent self.

I told him about old fears that there was something wrong with me, for being in my early twenties and having no idea what love or sex were really like, and having no idea how to obtain either. Or rather, I told his chest, holding on tight, struggling to get the words out and knowing I wouldn't be able to say them to his face, holding on to him because I needed to remember that those days were over. I was twenty four, I was naked, and I'd just had sex with the only person I had ever loved like that; there wasn't anything wrong with me anymore.

Victor chuckled. "Everyone worries about that, Yuri. You think I never worried that I was twenty-seven and I hadn't found 'the one'?" I liked the way he put it. In the past tense. He was twenty-eight by then. I liked the idea that maybe I was his 'one'. Then he made it even better. "If I'd known that 'the one' was over seven thousand miles away, I would have got on that flight sooner."

It made me think that maybe Fate does exist. Everything in my life pointed me towards him. It was only when I had given up faith, put on weight and was struggling to get back on the path to elite skating, that events conspired to get Victor to drop everything and come to me. If it hadn't been for skating, we would never have met. Everything on the ice led to love, led to this moment in the afternoon Thai sun. Victor's toes were rubbing against my ankle, smoothed out after a break from skates, and foot scrubs and reflexology massages. In our first week as a joke he even got a pedicure, painted his toe nails fuchsia pink. After nearly a month, his legs were bronzed, making the fine blond hairs stand out, and we had both lost a little muscle mass from being away; I'd worried that I'd have to be careful with what I ate to make sure I didn't turn back into Kobuta-chan, but actually... I didn't give that much of a damn. The curry is just too good...

I'd never felt better in my life. I was healthy; I was still exercising every day, eating delicious food, and I had affection, love and sex on tap. Just as Victor had promised, we had found somewhere remote enough that barely anyone knew who we were, even just after Pyeongchang - ooh, that reminds me! Phichit took a break from  _The King and the Skater_  to compete! He was the sole athlete from Thailand, and he won Bronze, putting my three most favourite skaters on the Olympic podium - and so I didn't need to worry about who saw us. I could kiss my boyfriend, my partner whenever I wanted, and did.

So I resented when anxiety scratched at my mind, reminding me that we only had a couple of days left. For a horrible moment, I was terrified; at some point the endorphins would wear off, and after flying so high for so long, after being so happy... I'd crash hard. My brain was not used to being this blissful, it couldn't last... like the wax in Icarus' wings.

"Yuri?" I started and looked down, glad to be pulled away from my thoughts. Victor was frowning at me, deeply worried. He smoothed his hand over my cheek. "Where did you go just then, baby? You looked scared..."

Victor... I threaded my fingers through his on my cheek, swallowed down the automatic impulse to tell him that nothing was wrong, and told him exactly what had just gone through my mind. For a moment, I was tempted to cry with relief, because even though I was feeling like that... I wasn't alone. Even though it sounded stupid as I said it, he just listened, and smiled gratefully for my honesty. "I think I know what you mean. I'm worried about going home too, getting used to being back. Shall we just stay on vacation?"

I chuckled, glad to be teased. "We can't. We have to go see Phichit before we go back. Guang Hong's meeting us in Bangkok too to show me  _Endlessness,_  and Minami's asked if I could make some time for him to show me his new programs for the next season. I'm even being paid for it."

Victor groaned complainingly. Then his expression softened. "That sounds alright. It _will_ be alright, you know?"

I did know. I do know. He stayed with me when I fell, came back with me to Hasetsu. He'd seen me depressed, near catatonic, and he'd seen me manic with anxious energy, desperate to leave rooms because I was struggling to breathe, suddenly afraid of seemingly nothing. Since the day he became my coach, Victor had supported me with my every endeavour, asked me to support him in all of his. It had become easy to bat away the doubts that one day he'd wake up and leave, easy to recognise that they're just my head playing tricks. I hoped that he was never afraid that I'd ever leave him either.

Victor suddenly swallowed nervously, slipped his hand out of mine, and awkwardly moved in the hammock to straddle my hips, swaying inelegantly as he sat on top of me. But this wasn't a come-on; he gently took my hands in his, and he looked petrified. I could feel his toes tapping against the hammock from nerves. I'd never seen him look like this, even before he would go out on to the ice. I squeezed his hands back, worried. "Vic-"

"Marry me."

_... Huh?_

All of a sudden words spilled out of his mouth, tumbling over themselves, broken only by nervous breaths for air to  _keep going_.

"Not, y'know, marry me as in church, certificate, white, flowers et cetera, I mean... Let's go home, and... stop living only as far the end of the next season, and... I want us to go home, and get a place of our own, somewhere that's  _ours_ , where we'll decorate together and buy furniture together, and... I want to get a dog together, and... I want to sell my apartment in St Petersburg because I don't want to _need_ it anymore, I don't want to think that, if things don't work out I have somewhere to go to, I don't... I just want things to  _work out_. I want us to make plans, I want to... I want to..." Tears started streaming down his face. I could only stare at him, wide-eyed, like I had in Barcelona, amazed that I could matter so much that it made him cry. "I w-want... I want to think that we... we'll be t-together in five years, that we'll be together in ten years, twenty years -"

"Yes."

He stopped, and stared down at me. My vision started to swim, and I realised I was crying too. I nodded emphatically, and said it again. "Yes." I didn't know what else to say for a moment, to get rid of the deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. Then it popped into my head, and I laughed before I could stop myself, and deliberately thickened my Japanese accent on the English words. " _Be my husband, Victor_!"

He gasped, his eyes widening in recognition. Then the smile I wanted to see so badly, that goofy, heart-shaped smile that only Victor has, spread across his face, trembling even as tears kept coming, and he yanked me upwards by my hands, swallowing me up in his arms as he kissed me hard. He barely winced as my own arms wrapped round him, forgetting his sunburn, pulling him tightly against me. The hammock swayed warningly, and then tipped us out, and Victor landed heavily on top of me on the decking, and we both laughed, too happy to be bruised. I peppered his face, where his tears had run, with kisses before gazing up at him in wonder. "You still surprise me..."

The tears that I had just cleaned up came back. "O-oh, so..." That was meant to be my line.

He kissed me again, our legs, still caught in the hammock, tumbling out. I was about to wrap mine round his hips, but he shook his head, even as he kissed me and then pushed up from me, grinning. "Ah-ah. I've wanted to do this for far too long..."

And he suddenly scooped me up into his arms, one under my shoulders and the other hooked under my knees, and carried me, bridal-style, into our villa, across the threshold.

* * *

* * *

To be continued...


	2. Hades

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

_He can't hear. He glides out to the centre, his face taut with nerves. Hair falls over one eye, but he shuts his eyes anyway. He can't hear._

_He can only hear -_

* * *

 CHAPTER 1

May

_Hades_

* * *

* * *

A matter of an hour, and things might have been very different that year. A matter of putting my phone in my bag and not my pocket, and it might have been too late. A matter of simply not picking up the call, and we would have regretted it.

I remember, very vividly, where we were when I got the call: in a taxi from Imperial World to Suvarnabhumi airport in Bangkok. It was late, but Bangkok is not a city that sleeps, or if it does, it does not do so quietly. We were stuck in traffic, but we were running early. Again, a matter of an hour. Still, I remember being vaguely annoyed that we weren't moving very far or very quickly - lots of motorbikes kept zooming past - but Yuri was looking out the window, his face lit up orange by the streetlights, open and wondrous, absorbing it all. He was no stranger to Bangkok by then, but still it all filled him with excitement and adventure. Me; it was noisy and smelly and I missed Koh Ai. I wanted the sound of waves, sand in my toes, the sea breeze. Not this muggy cosmopolitan heat. But I was consoling myself with the fact that we were heading home, in time for summer rain. I was looking forward to it.

My phone rang in my pocket, and I was surprised at the Caller ID. I had no thought whatsoever of ignoring the call.

"Yakov! Long time no -"

"Nicolai Plisetski died."

I remember very precisely what happened in the seconds before I said anything. A motorbike whizzed past on my side, and the taxi radio garbled. And Yuri looked over at me curiously; we had barely used our phones other than to take photos, we had just dumped a load of them on to Instagram whilst we were staying with Phichit. I remember the look on his face as he saw my face fall. "Victor?"

I asked the most important question last. It was not included amongst these: "When...? How...? Where...?" In Russian. It seemed strange, using my mother tongue; I was so used to speaking English with Yuri, because we always had, and Japanese with everyone else at home, because I had learnt.

Yakov answered with blunt conciseness, including that which was most important. "An hour ago. He's been ill for a long time. It was peaceful, he was asleep. We're at the hospital in St Petersburg."

I recalled that, the last time we saw Yurio in Hasetsu for a consultation, he had mentioned that he was going to ask his grandfather to move to St Petersburg, so he could look after him and still train. Last I had heard, Nicolai did move, into his own little apartment, wanting his independence (and undoubtedly turned a little off by the ice duo that was Yakov Feltsman and Lilia Baranovskaya).

This was the most important question. "How is Yuri?" I couldn't remember the last time I'd called Yurio by his actual name.

Yakov was silent for a long time. I knew that silence, had known my old coach for many years. I knew that he was trying not to be affected. "Yuri needs you, Vitya. Come home."

Without even thinking, I nodded. "Hmm. Yuri and I are in Thailand, we're heading to the airport now. I'll call back when I know what's happening."

"Very well," Yakov said flatly. "Ask Katsuki to come. Yura needs him too."

We hung off, and I let my head drop into my hands. Oh God... Yuri reached out, rubbed a hand on my back. His face drained of colour when I told him, and he didn't even need to be asked. "We need to cancel our flights and get the next flight to Russia."

Traffic finally eased, but the driver crawled the car along. Yuri had to whisper in my ear to not say anything; confrontation is never the answer in South East Asia. He was already checking flights on his phone. By the time we got to the airport, he already knew we were in luck; there were tickets still for the first flight out to Sheremetyevo, to transfer to Pulkovo. We dropped our bags at the airport, went back to Phichit's for the night, and I held Yuri tightly in my arms in Phichit's spare room; I fell asleep, for a couple of hours, to his steady pulse.

From that point on, I remember very random points very vividly, and the rest is hazy. I barely remember the flights, nor the name or face of the assistant that Yakov sent to pick us up from Pulkovo. By then, Yakov had removed Yurio from the hospital; I remember, like it was yesterday, awkwardly putting my head in his room at Lilia's apartment, and seeing him in bed with his back turned, the lights off and curtains closed. I remember being sure, despite having no particular reason, that he was awake, but he said nothing as we told him that we were there. I remember Yuri asking Lilia if Yurio was eating; we had both spotted the untouched pirozhki on the bedside.

It was Yuri who warned us that the press would be on their way; a photo of Yurio coming out of the hospital, looking grey, had just been posted on Yuri's Angels' Instagram, with a caption that had made an accurate guess. Condolences were pouring in. A crowd appeared outside Lilia's apartment, and Mila called to say not to go to the ice rink. Most of them meant well... some were so obsessed they didn't know what they meant...

Yakov organised the funeral on Yurio's behalf, who had barely said enough words for me to count on two hands. The day before, Otabek came from Almaty; he couldn't get Yurio to do or say much either. On the day, many of our skating friends offered a wreath. Christophe came from Zurich, to pay his respects to a man who had inspired one of us. I was glad to see him, even under such circumstances, and even briefly. I wanted to tell him about my proposal, but it seemed poor taste. Yuri and I no longer knew when now.

If I had never met Yuri, I know that I would have dealt with Yurio very differently; I would handled things badly. The boy - a man really, he was only recently eighteen - was effectively mute. We couldn't get him to speak, he barely ate, he didn't exercise, let alone skate. I know that were it not for Yuri, I would have... I would have acted on the fact that I was terrified. I would have done all I could to get Yurio to say something, do something, show some emotion beyond numbness, show that he was  _okay_. Yuri however... when we left every night to go back, he would deflate, confess that he was horribly worried, but when he was at Lilia's apartment, he remained... strong. Like a pillar. He took food into Yurio's room, replacing one barely touched plate with another without comment. Yuri was the only one who got Yurio to look up from his pillow, even if he never said anything or even smiled. For the rest of us he'd remain motionless. Yurio expected us to be there. I don't think he quite knew why Yuri was still there, every day.

Yurio looked so small, flanked by Otabek and Yakov, Mila and Lilia behind at the funeral, shrunken in his black suit. He ignored everyone who came up to him with their condolences, forcing Yakov to accept them on his behalf. Otabek, normally stoic, looked worried, kept trying to get Yurio to acknowledge anything around him, other than his grandfather's coffin before him. At the funeral of Nicolai Plisetski stood another corpse. We buried the man in the ground, and Yurio looked like he wanted to crawl into the grave and be buried with him.

He disappeared to his bedroom again when we got in, not caring about the wake. Later, Lilia took in some tea. He was asleep, she said. Yuri whispered, seemingly to no one, that no, he wasn't.

Later, when thankfully everyone had gone - I was midway explaining to Yakov that I had instructed my lawyer to handle the sale of my apartment, that Yuri and I shouldn't stay much longer - we heard the crack of china, followed by...

To this day, I do not have words to describe what I heard. It was the most horrifying sound I have ever heard in my life. Yurio was crying... not just crying, or sobbing, but  _screaming_ with grief. We all froze in the living room, helpless, petrified of that sound. Yuri moved first, almost running to our little brother. He didn't bother knocking, just swept straight in like the wind. By the time I caught up he was on his knees, clutching on to Yurio, who looked like he was being tortured. Not even babies can cry like this. I have never seen anyone look so wretched. Yurio was gripping onto Yuri so tightly he actually drew blood with his fingernails, though Yuri never noticed, so I didn't mention it. He just held him, bent over Yurio like an animal protects its young, allowing Yurio to scream unmuffled until his throat was shredded, and even then he couldn't stop trying to push the air out of his lungs somehow.

The tea cup was broken on the floor.

I moved, helplessly and uselessly put my hand on Yurio's back, rubbing so he could keep going. My other hand I put on Yuri's shoulder, anchoring him to me. When I realised that Yuri was crying for him, my own tears fell silently too. We didn't make a sound, until finally Yurio passed out in Yuri's arms, and still they did not move.

I have no idea how long we stayed there. Being Japanese, Yuri had no trouble staying exactly where he was, his legs folded underneath him, and he sat there cradling Yurio for what felt like hours. As I ached to move, to regain the feeling in my legs, my love looked up at me and smiled weakly.

"Daijōbu, Victor. I've got him." He sniffed, but did nothing to stop the tear that dribbled down his cheek. I wiped it away for him. "We're going to need to figure out what to do." And he looked down at the unconscious boy, whose head was buried in Yuri's stomach.

I nodded, winced as I stood, kissed Yuri's forehead - I was so proud of him, even right in that moment with so much grief I felt that pride - and left. I kept the door open; it had grown dark, and I didn't want to switch on the light or plunge them into darkness and disturb Yurio.

I returned to Lilia's living room to three different sets of eyes. Otabek looked up at me, wide-eyed and scared. He looked grey, like he had lost blood. I gave my best reassuring smile - it wasn't much - and gestured for him to not disturb. At that, Lilia looked away. She was sat up on the sofa, back straight, every limb rigid. I saw right through her; her cheeks looked red, pinched under her make-up, the persona of strength that she thought was best was only just in place. It was not just for Yurio, but for herself too. I didn't blame her, and I still don't.

Yakov glared at me. He had already figured out what was obvious to all of us.

"He's not going to be able to compete this year," he said gruffly, in the kitchen as he hunted for vodka. He found it, poured, as I stared at him. I didn't want to agree. If Yurio couldn't skate, I wasn't sure what else he had left. "I'm going to focus on Mila this season. She got a PB at the Worlds. She wants to beat Crispino, and I think she has what it takes for Gold this year."

I still couldn't say anything, even though I really wanted to ask the obvious; what about Yurio? He was still living with Yakov and Lilia to train, as the oddest surrogate family I had ever seen. His mother had passed away when he was very young, and his father was a non-entity. He was an orphan now. If Yurio wasn't going to be skating, or least if Yakov wasn't going to be coaching him, what was he going to do,  _where_ was he going to go?

I suppose I should be more accurate in this; I wanted to ask these questions aloud, but I already knew the answer. When I went back to check on Yuri, I knew that he knew too. He'd put Yurio to bed, asked Otabek to sit by him, told him it was alright if he fell asleep. Yuri shut the door on them, and hugged me, needing comfort too.

"He can't stay here," he said quietly.

I nodded. No, he couldn't. We went back to my apartment to sleep, but we stayed up, talking. When we went back in the morning, it was to find Otabek asleep uncomfortably in the armchair at Yurio's bedside, and Yurio awake in the bathtub.

Yurio said nothing of the location, and just climbed in too, making Yurio shuffle up. He put a hand on the boy's knee. "Yurio... we're going to go back home soon -"

Yurio's eyes widened.

"- Would you like to come with us?"

The boy's mouth fell open. He stared at Yuri disbelievingly, then, as though he was surprised I was there, at me the same, then back at Yuri, at the hand on his knee.

"-a..." He coughed, tried to swallow, to wet his throat enough to try again. "D-da."

Yuri smiled, hiding the relief I knew he felt too. "Okay. When would you like us all to go?"

Yurio's face trembled as he realised Yuri meant it. "N... n-now..."

Yuri nodded, glanced at me. I nodded too, and left. I had tickets to book immediately, our bags to pack, and I needed to call Mari to tell her the plan was a go. As I left, Yuri's soft voice, which I can hear anywhere, carried down the hall to my ears. "On one condition; have a bath, a proper one, first."

It would be some time before we heard Yurio laugh, but Yuri said he managed to smile. It was a start. It was all a start. That night, we had to listen to Yurio muffling his sobs as the plane took off, taking him away from his grandfather's home, from his grandfather's grave. We couldn't get up from our seats to comfort him, but as Yuri's fingers tightened through mine, I know we both hoped that it was the right decision. Everyone would tell us it was... it was strange. At the time, we were both certain, yet we doubted our certainty, not the decision.

We stopped doubting when we got home, and finally - _finally_ \- Yurio ate again. Extra large portion.

* * *

**...**

**Daijōbu?**

**Hmm. It's just... I hope to never hear Yurio cry like that. I... I hope I never make you cry like that.**

**... M-me... Me too.**

**Victor... let's go light some incense for Nicolai.**

**Hai. Let's. We... we did do right, didn't we?**

**... I think so. I hope so.**

**I just... I remember that flight, from St Petersburg with him. It... it reminded me of... of...**

**I know. Me too. Of when you brought me home after I fell.**

**... Except he was even worse. I thought it couldn't get any worse. I remember wishing we weren't in first class, or that they had the old style seats. If we'd all been sat together, instead of in our little booths, we could have... I don't know what we could have done. But I didn't like listening to him crying, stuck in my seat.**

**... We couldn't have done anything, Victor. But we did what we could. We... we did what we could.**

* * *

* * *

To be continued... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry everyone...
> 
> Things pick up.


	3. Home

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 2

Late May/June

_Home_

* * *

* * *

Victor always says that I looked like I knew what I was doing. I... I really didn't. I hadn't thought it through at all. I... I was just following my gut. I'm not sure that constitutes knowing what I was doing... as long as Yurio thought that I did, that's fine.

I was aware of the ticking clock from the moment we left St Petersburg. We were nearly into June, waiting for the rainy season to start, and for Yurio's first week back in Hasetsu, these were the words that we heard come out of his mouth:

'Yes' and 'Thank you'.

Yeah... I know, right?

He slept for two days when we got home. Actually slept as well, because every time one of us went in to leave him food he was genuinely asleep. He woke once, when Victor went in, and ate whilst it was hot - nothing much, just some rice, some fish, some miso soup, some vegetables - and then went back to sleep. As Victor left, he was surprised to be thanked by a muffled, quiet voice under the duvet. It wasn't the first thanks; the first was for Oka-san, for the katsudon. As Victor and I tried not to gawp, she just beamed, her usual self, and ruffled his hair.

Victor and I made a point of getting on with our business, inviting Yurio along with us, not expecting him to come or minding that he didn't. For the first week, he didn't leave the house, barely left his room, or could be found in the onsen on his own. We told the regulars what had happened, and they all left him be.

I met with Minami-kun in Fukuoka, who asked after Yurio with genuine sympathy, sending his condolences. The JSF had contracted me to choreograph Minami-kun's programs for the season, though really he did most of the work. He was about to turn twenty then, studying Japanese Literature at Kyushu University. He was, as always, a breath of fresh air; ever full of energy, itching to skate, still starry-eyed. He was waiting for his assignments in the Grand Prix, was already confirmed to compete in the Japanese national team. He had done himself proud in Pyeongchang only a few months ago. And he still liked to boogie; he'd picked  _Solo Dance_ , by Martin Jensen, for his Short Program, and  _Easy Love_ by Sigala. I had so much fun choreographing for those pieces! I'd listen to them both on the train to Fukuoka every time I went to train with him. The audiences were going to clap along enthusiastically to Minami-kun. He just needed to perfect his quads. He was getting there.

My evenings were spent on Skype, chatting to Guang Hong, finding out how he was getting on with the routines for  _Endlessness_ that I'd sent before Victor and I went away, having seen a run-through at Imperial World before the news hit. Or I'd discuss with Phichit how practices were going to for  _The King and the Skater II_. They too both asked after Yurio; I...

I lied, and told them that he was fine. He wasn't fine. But _he would be_ , eventually. Thinking that made it easier to lie in the present. He would be...

Meanwhile, Victor started house hunting. We didn't really know what we were looking for; with the expected proceeds from his prime apartment in St Petersburg, and... well,  _The King and the Skater_ had put a lot of money in my savings account. We could have gotten a mansion, except...

"It's only for the two of us," Victor pointed out with a shrug. "I just want somewhere...  _homey_ , for just us two." I agreed. We carried on looking.

But first, we got a dog.

Attached to the veterinarian hospital is an animal rescue shelter. We had debated dragging Yurio there - he had left his cat, Potya, with Yakov and Lilia, as the feline had been unhelpfully cat-like, and unmoved by the turmoil of her feeders, and, as Yurio wasn't talking, he didn't really say one way or the other if he wanted to bring the cat. We had had to assume he didn't feel strongly about it, as he didn't object when Lilia offered to look after Potya until he came back to Russia. But I caught him looking around himself every now and then, and I realised that he was looking for Makkachin, that in moments he would forget that three years had passed since he had last been here, and Makkachin was gone. But, when we offered to take him to help us pick out a dog, he declined with his now normal, silent shake of his head.

Which was probably for the best anyway. Dogs aren't like cats; they respond to the emotions of humans. That's not a criticism of cats; I envy them their indifference sometimes. But if we had let Yurio into the animal shelter, it would have been like throwing a grenade in. It would have been a very different experience...

... Particularly as Victor was in  _heaven_.

"KAWAIIIIIIIII!!!"

It took hours... after being happily slobbered on by every type of dog the shelter had - from mongrels to shitzus - Victor found the one. He got to the end of the line of kennels, stopped, stared, tilted his head, slowly knelt. Amidst the loud barking from all the other dogs, he gently coaxed a tiny, buckwheat noodle coloured poodle pup out from the corner to sniff his fingers through the grate. And then he turned to me, eyes wide, smiling his heart-shaped smile.

"My nashli nashu sobaku!"

Except, I couldn't hear him over the barking. All I heard was 'soba'. So, Sobachin.

When we took her home, Victor carrying her in his arms, looking so goofily happy I'm amazed he didn't spread tiny wings and started fluttering about, she had the oddest reaction to Yurio. She was very shy - the vet explained she'd been a birthday present, and her receiver turned out to be allergic - and was initially wary of everyone. When Victor let her down so she could have a sniff around she slowly meandered her way into the dining hall, and stopped short at the sight of Yurio. Yurio blinked back, mid-chew. Slowly, Sobachin padded forward, sniffed at Yurio's knee. He didn't move, just watched, slowly started chewing again and swallowed, hesitated before taking another bite of his yakisoba. Then, to everyone's surprise, Sobachin clumsily clambered up into Yurio's lap, and promptly fell asleep.

I need to point out that Yurio was never a big fan of Makkachin. He didn't  _mind_ him, but half the time he was shoving him away loudly, telling Victor - once he yelled at  _me_ \- to take his mangy dog somewhere else.

So I'm sure you can imagine we were not expecting Yurio to tentatively reach down and nervously stroke the tiny puppy. She fidgeted at his touch, wagged her tail, and settled into a more comfy position.

This was his first unsolicited, full sentence: "she's so soft..."

Like I said, Yurio was going to be just fine.

More short sentences would follow: 'good girl', 'here', 'that's right', 'no, don't eat that'. They grew to 'you just  _had_ to get another poodle...', 'where did she come from?' and 'can we take her to the rink today?'

It was only after Sobachin came into our lives that Yurio started getting out of the house. Victor and I would go skating at Ice Castle every evening; we invited him to come with us everyday, but he always said no. Then, a couple of days, after we brought home Sobachin, he came on his own accord.

Now that neither of us competed, Victor and I didn't skate like we used to. We would just put on some music - an inexhaustible playlist of pretty much  _everything_ that  _anyone_ has ever skated to - and we would just skate. Bits of old routines, mimic someone else's. Then after a while, once we had warmed up, I'd go through programs that I was working on; Victor would skate with me, mirroring me. Before we went away Victor had helped me finish  _Endlessness_ , and we had filmed each other's performances, sent all of our recordings to Guang Hong; he would send his own videos back over Skype, and I'd feedback. For Minami-kun, Victor and I would discuss movements we didn't like, figure out another way to enter into particular jumps so that I could teach them to Minami-kun at his local rink in Hakata.

Because of this, I have to do jumps still. It used to be nerve-wracking - my leg would itch sometimes, warningly - but if I wanted to be able to show my... well, my students, I guess... what I wanted them to do, I had to do quadruple flips, triple axels, flying spins, the whole range of technicals. I don't practice them nearly as much as I did for competition, but I can't get rusty. And I don't like being afraid of them either.

But I still fall sometimes, and I was in the middle of doing a quad lutz when Yurio showed up. Total flup.

"Typical." I'm sure I heard him say... I let it go. At the edge, about to step on, I could see his hands shaking. It had been a while since he had last been on the ice.

"Want us to go?" Victor offered with an open smile. We waited. He shook his head. "Here to practice?" Another pause, then he nodded. "Anything in particular?" Another head shake. "Okay. Want us to turn the music off? It's no trouble." Slowly Yurio shook his head again, and gestured to the headphones he had round his neck. "We'll turn it down a bit anyway. We'll take the far end, just let us know if you need anything."

Yurio nodded, and then, finally, pushed out on to the ice... He breathed... it must have felt better than he thought, being on the ice again.

At first, Yurio would just skate, in circles, practicing his free leg. Then he started doing spread-eagles, in figures of eight, in the corner, slowly expanding across the rink. He started coming with us every day. Sometimes he'd go without us; Yuuko-chan would message him whenever Ice Castle was free. She told me he never replied, but with growing frequency he would show up, until he showed up every time, running over.

The same day Yurio started practicing jumps again he walked home with us, and suddenly stopped on the bridge, looking back to the bank of the island the castle sat upon. We stopped too, waited. He then nodded his head towards the castle.

"That would be a cool place to live. On the river, with all the sakura trees."

And then he carried on walking. Victor and I just stared at him. He scowled. "I'm not deaf, you know. I can hear you talking at night."

Victor later whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine as his breath tickled over my pulse, as it always does. "We  _really_ need to move out..."

That was mean, Victor. We hadn't since Thailand. We hadn't exactly been in the mood since we got the news and rerouted to St Petersburg, though we had spooned every night a little tighter, I think both of us hoping we would never make the other as bereft as Yurio.

And then he went and did that... god's sake.

(We snuck outside like teenagers, and Victor hoisted me up against the wall, my legs hitched round his hips. Oh my god, we needed that...)

* * *

 

* * *

That's how we found it.

(Not the sneaking out... what Yurio said.)

I can remember the first viewing so,  _so_ vividly. It was pouring with rain, so loud that it was a constant, present noise - I _loved_ it - and I made Yurio walk across the bridge with me. I say 'made'; Yuri had gone back to Bangkok to help Phichit, and I asked Yurio if he wanted to come. It must have been my eager expression, because he looked a bit wide-eyed at me, and struggled to say no. And I say 'walk'; we _ran_. I laughed the whole way, because by then he was starting to talk more, and that day he started to swear again. The estate agent looked a little alarmed to find two drowned Russian rats waiting for her at the address.

I remember just the difference in the sound as we went through the gate. The world had dropped away until there was nothing but a small path to the front door, and a camellia tree umbrellaing a forlorn pond, and thick spongy moss everywhere. Everything was blacker, greyer, greener, like the rain had washed more colour into everything. There was no sound other than the rain drops in the pond, pattering on the path, on the tiles of the traditional slate roof. And the dial of Yurio's phone to get Yuri on FaceTime.

"Kon'nichiwa!" I heard Yuri's voice, and smiled. The world had expanded again, just to include him. "How is it?"

"Amazing..."

I turned to look at Yurio. He was staring about himself in awe. I ducked into shot on his phone and smiled at my beloved. "What he said!"

It was far from perfect. The owner bought the place as an escape from Fukuoka. But he hadn't put in the work needed to look after it. The kitchen needed to be completely remodelled. The master bedroom's ensuite was no good. Even the tatami in the living room was frayed. But the bones of the house were there, were... it made me think of when I saw Yuri's rendition of  _Stay Close To Me_. I wanted to go on auto-pilot.

I could hear Yuri's excited voice over Yurio's phone as he quietly guided him through the house. From the sliding, solid and heavy front door - "we'll need to get something for all your shoes, Victor!" - into the reception - "why's it so dark in here?" "The windows face north." "Ah, so ka..." - to the centre of the house, from which everything else led off.

"... _Segoi_..."

Rain puttered on the enormous skylight over the central point, and a bucket caught a leak in the glass far above my head. The owner had clearly never known what to do with this room, that was so bright and huge and in the middle. The floor was even raised up a step; it made me think of a kabuki theatre stage. Thick posts at each corner held up the high ceiling, all dark wood. I looked up, and thought of the stars, of lying in the centre with Yuri and gazing at the heavens with Sobachin. I was thinking of rugs and sofas, a heated floor maybe, and comfort in this rainy light that I could tell would be like gold in the summer.

It did not surprise me to find out the owner was unmarried, and was an accountant. No offence to accountants, but I've yet to meet one with imagination.

Ahead was a room that the owner had made into his living room, that lead out on to the garden; the owner had put sofas, bookshelves, a TV and sound system in there, had a bigger collection of DVDs and BluRays than of books in the bookshelves. It was low ceilinged, felt darker for it, even though the window was floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall. Beyond was an untended garden that overlooked the river, Hasetsu sitting in the mist beyond. The sound was muted in this room too, good for the TV I realised, courtesy of triple glazed windows to keep the heat in. The sofas faced the TV, not the windows, which had the finer view.

I was imagining Yuri practicing ballet in front of those windows...

To the right from the centre was the kitchen, all old appliances in cream that made it all look a little mouldy. A shame; the size reminded me of my kitchen in my apartment in St Petersburg; big, lots of cabinets. The windows looked out on to the street. It had potential. By necessity the kitchen at the onsen was small, but it had pleased me to make dinner in there from time to time for all of us. I'm not a great cook, but what I do know how to make I pride myself on making well; I would need a shelf for my collection of cook books, and order more in Japanese. Yuri however was a comprehensive chef from helping his parents at the onsen and from being a student in Detroit, but he didn't enjoy it. I knew, before he said it on Yurio's phone, that the kitchen would have to be my project. I smiled; I looked forward to it.

Next to the kitchen was a storage room; a pity, as it boasted the same windows as the living room - or our dance studio, in my head. A guest room instead perhaps? It was too small to be the master.

Which was on the other side. It was big - I didn't like where the owner had put his wardrobe, nearly blocking the east-facing windows, the main source of light - and workable. Yuri and I would figure something out that worked for both of us. The ensuite was... ugh. The shutters on the window had rusted shut, which meant the only light was artificial, which made the tiles look sterile. Just no. Yurio pulled a face, and Yuri made a low groan on the speakers.

Next door, to the left, next to the reception room was the main bathroom - a bit better, despite the awkward location, as there was a mini onsen built in, but no shower and again suffered from lack of light - whereas that was no issue at all with the last remaining room, between the master bedroom and the ballet studio.

Ah, I thought. Office. The window was at waist height to the ceiling in here, but the owner had neglected the chance to put his desk under it, had it facing the wall closest to the door, his back to the light. I closed my eyes. I could see Yuri look up from his MacBook, silhouetted against sunshine, smiling at me as I told him lunch was ready. I could see a basket for Sobachin. I could see his sketches and notes on the walls. I could see an armchair, some egg-like thing, where I could sit with a cup of tea and write my memoir. Write this.

I opened my eyes again, ignored the current contents and walked through to the window and looked out. The garden outside was neglected, but I could picture throwing parties out there once the rains were over, and it was all tidied up. I wanted to invite Chris to come and see the life I had picked, drink a lot of wine in that garden and laugh. I wanted to celebrate sakura season with Yuri out there. And undoubtedly wait impatiently as Sobachin woke us up in the middle of the night to go out.

"Victor?"

I turned back to Yurio, or rather to Yuri on his phone. "I think this is it, moya lyubov'. Hurry back home so you can see it properly."

By the time the summer was over, all the works I had commissioned on the roof, the kitchen, both bathrooms, and all the redecorating was done, and we were looking for a landscaper for the garden. It was a busy,  _busy_ summer.

* * *

* * *

**Yuri...?**

**Nani?**

**I... This is... this is real, right?**

**... You're asking me??**

**Baka. I mean... never mind. I don't even know what I mean! I...**

**Victor...**

**Even I think sometimes that I can barely believe it. That we bought this house together, made it our own. That we have Sobachin together. That I'm in this armchair after all, typing all of this up, that you're sat opposite at your desk, just as I pictured it.**

**... Hmm. Want to know what helps me snap me out of thinking like that?**

**H-Hmm...**

**Remembering that we need to do the washing up, and put laundry on, and take Sobachin out for a walk before bedtime.**

**... Really?**

**Yeah. Really. Come on, you've had your head stuck in the past all day, come out with us. Then when we come home we'll clean up, run a bath, and think of tomorrow.**

* * *

To be continued...


	4. Be my coach

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 3

June

_Be my coach_

* * *

* * *

"I want to compete."

We were having dinner. I'd just got back from Fukuoka, training with Minami-kun, and Victor had been at the house issuing directives to the decorators and the builders.

Both Victor and I grinned. "We thought you might," Victor said for both of us, encouragingly. I'm amazed neither of us jumped up and started cheering; we had waited for Yurio to say as much for weeks. "We asked the ISF to keep your place in the Grand Prix. We're just waiting for the assignments."

Yurio's eyes widened and he looked down at his bowl that he'd been picking at with his chopsticks. "M-Mmm. Th-Thank you."

"Do you..." My voice halted in my throat. I didn't want to ask this, but... I had to, for his sake. I was dreading his answer, and I was surprised to feel that way. "Do... do you want to go back to Yakov?"

Hidden under the table, Victor gently took my hand and squeezed.

Yurio shrank into himself, and then suddenly screwed his face up, anger bubbling out of nowhere. He suddenly and furiously... _shook his head_. Then he raised his head, all fire and determination. I wanted to smile so badly in that split second; he looked like himself again.

"No... I..."

I will  _always_ remember this moment.

Yurio scrambled to his feet, knocking over his tea, and as I automatically reached to try and right his cup, he stood to attention, every inch of his body rigid with nerves... and fixed me with his patented glare, freezing me into place. Victor's hands flew to his face, peeking out of the gaps between his fingers.

"Be...  _be my coach, Yuri_!" And he slapped his hands together, his eyes sliding shut in supplication. "Tanomen!"

Tea dripped off the table to the floor.

"Eh?"

Why was he... why was he looking at me? Why... why not... I glanced at Victor, Yurio's fellow Russian, who has won so many gold medals and trophies in his life we had multiple boxes of them waiting to move to the house. Victor looked back at me, and adjusted his hands on his face just enough so I could see...

He was  _grinning_. His eyes were swimming, the size of plates, and his mouth was bursting to break into his gushing, heart-shaped smile. He let out a tiny squeak, like he couldn't contain himself, and I realised... he was trying his absolute hardest to  _not geek out_.

Yurio wanted me to be his coach... Me.  _Yurio_ wanted  _me_ to be his  _coach_. Yurio wanted... eh...  _eh_...  _EH?! Don't scream out loud, don't scream out loud, don't -_

"EH?!?!" I might have... lost it, a bit. "W-Watashi?! Demo...!" And I helplessly pointed at Victor, who seized my outstretched hand.

"OH NO! _Definitely_ not!" Victor scolded me, bouncing excitedly. Next to him, Sobachin bounced too, running round us. "I said this before! It would  _never_ have worked out, me coaching Yurio, and it definitely won't work now either. You however...  _this is going to be so good!_ "

"D-Demo..." I said helplessly again, but I could never say why 'but'. But what?

I'd only been a coach - Victor's coach, which is nothing like being an actual coach, because he knew his shit better than I did - for two years. I hadn't competed in two years either, and when I did, Yurio was... I always thought he was  _better_ than me. He deserved every gold he got that year, every medal since. Victor had worked  _hard_ to beat him when he returned to the ice. What did  _I_ have to offer -

I looked at him, and did a double-take. I... for starters, he hadn't moved. He was still stood, bowed slightly, his hands now shaking because he was  _terrified_ that I was going to... to turn him down. But also... I could see now. 

He had lost weight. He was almost as skinny as he had been at fifteen, from all the weeks of grief. He would need to get back into shape. He would need to take up dancing again; I'd send him to Minako-sensei, but ask her to stick to more contemporary styles. The programs he'd shown me before were not going to work anymore, had been about exhilaration and hedonism, inspired from Otabek taking him out clubbing on his eighteenth birthday.

It was summer already. I only had a couple of months at best, and everyone else had been preparing since there was snow on the ground. We were going to have to work fast. I hoped that Ketty was free. I... I had an idea; I hoped  _everyone_ would make it work.

"Okay."

Yurio's eyes opened, and he looked at me with... shock. Oh Yurio. I'm so sorry that you thought I might say no, I shouldn't have done that to you. I looked at Victor, who nodded, those beautiful eyes I love so much shimmering brightly. I smiled back at him, suddenly light, and I scrambled to my feet too.

"Yurio..." He blinked at me. I just grinned, even as I stammered. "St-starting today, I'm your coach. I'll make you win the Grand Prix Final."

Yurio's mouth wobbled. He hadn't heard those words before, _like I had_ , but still. I thought for a moment he was going to cry...

But then Victor  _exploded_. "YYYYEEEESSSSS!!!" He whooped at the top of his voice, scaring everyone in the dining hall, leapt to his feet and seized me, kissed me, leapt over the table, seized Yurio and kissed him on the cheek, turning the teenager bright red, and then sprinted off to the kitchen. "OH MY GOD, THIS IS GOING TO BE AMAZING! MARI-NEECHAN! WHERE'S THAT CHAMPAGNE I GOT FROM -"

Yurio and I watched him go. "Ugh..."

I chuckled and glanced back at my new protege. "Ne, Yurio... this is going to be really hard, you know that, right?"

He lowered his head. "Hmm. I know. It... it's late. But..." And he looked back up at me determinedly. "I want to win that gold medal again. For  _me_."

I smiled. "Good. Here's what we're going to do."

And I told him a rough outline of what I had already figured out. He pulled a face, but he didn't object. It might not have worked out anyway, they might have all said 'no'.

But they didn't.

* * *

* * *

I'm sorry Nicolai, but after that, we gave your grandson barely any time for grief anymore. Both Yuri and I hoped that you would have approved.

If Yurio wasn't skating with Yuri (or 'Katsu-sensei' as he started calling him. Yuri said it was weird being called by his name after three years of 'Katsudon', but that was too informal for a coach, so he made it a rule that Yurio had to show at least some deference and call him 'Katsudon-sensei'. But Yurio, struggling with the mouthful of a moniker, and with no patience anyway, took off the 'don' bit, without realising what 'katsu' actually translates to. Yuri and I thought it was appropriate, it made Yuri grin every time Yurio called him it)... if he wasn't on the ice, he was in Minako's studio. If he wasn't there, he was doing physical training with me, building back the muscle he'd lost. If he wasn't doing that, he was earning his keep at Yu-Topia, though he was paying rent, just as I did, helping Mari-neechan with basic chores. And if he wasn't doing that, he was furniture shopping with me.

Which he animatedly  _hated_. I might have bought some really hideous things just to wind him up. (Yuri made me take a lot of them back. Like the seven foot Cupid bust.)

Yurio slowly started to sound like himself again. During his physical training - identical to what Yuri had done three years ago - he'd gripe, particularly when I'd get him to run up those stairs (I didn't blame him, Yuri made me do the same when I was re-training), and he'd moan about having to do those ankle twisting steps outside of Ice Castle (this I sympathised with less; his step sequences over the last two years had been uninspiring and underwhelming. If he wanted Yuri to coach him, he  _had to keep up_ ) and he even tried to get out of doing pull ups in the gym.

I showed no mercy. But when we all got home, and Yuri and I would turn in, we'd both gush about all the stupid things that he'd said that day.

_"This is stupid."_

_"Huh?! The hell do I need to do that for?!"_

_"Oh my god... that's awesome fashion..."_

_"Stop smirking, old geezer!"_

I... I was about to say I shouldn't have taken him out shopping in the arcade, but... whatever put that expression on his face. It was his money after all.

Daft boy. I remember one of the times, early on, when I went to watch Yurio practice with Yuri. On the ice, Yurio was... hmm. It was impressive. A very different creature.

Totally focused. Calm, even. He listened to everything that Yuri said. Even if he disagreed, he was collected, made his arguments well. He was absolutely determined to get the most out of Yuri's coaching.

Then he'd lose patience, and flip.

But Yuri had better explain why.

* * *

* * *

**... Ugh...**

**Heehee... tired just thinking about it?**

**... Heh...**

**Hey, you try keeping up with an eighteen year old when you're thirty.**

**'Old Geezer'...**

**... You trying to start something, Kobuta-chan?**

**... I wouldn't dream of it.**

**Cheeky...**

**You love me really.**

**Oh yeah. Crap. I do, don't I?... Come here, baka. It still amazes me that you never saw it coming.**

**Hmm?**

**Yurio asking you to coach him. _Of course_ he would ask you. You got Minami to win the Nationals, into the Grand Prix. The Chinese were paying you to get Guang Hong on to the podium. You got  _me_ two more gold seasons -**

**Victor, that wasn't me, that was -**

**YURI.**

**H-Hai?**

**Repeat after me: I am the best figure-skating choreographer and coach in the world today.**

**...**

**Don't make me pinch you.**

**I... I am the... Victor...**

**Alright, alright. You not saying it doesn't make it any less true. Besides, that's not the point. _Yurio_ thought you were the best. He wasn't  _that_ catatonic when we brought him to Hasetsu. I mean, he was a  _state_ , but... I have no doubt that he knew that you were his way forward to getting what he wanted. He always looked up to you  _far more_ than he ever looked up to me. He just  _hates_ admitting it!**

* * *

To be continued...


	5. Interlude - Beijing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets a bit oo-er. Might need to change the rating...

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

INTERLUDE

Beijing

* * *

* * *

When I woke, I saw white.

No... not white. Light pink? Peach? A dusting of silver. A sight I was familiar with, but not this close... although, not that far off before... umm...

Without my glasses, and the vague feeling that it was a lot earlier than need be, the world was hazy. I closed my eyes again. Lots of things were hazy. Where were my glasses? Where was my phone? I would normally check it first thing, to see what the time was, to check Instagram. I couldn't remember where I had put it... all I could remember was...

OH GOD.

I opened my eyes again, and peered up slightly. Victor's sleeping face was an inch from mine. It suddenly occurred to me that my pillow was... harder than normal; his bicep. His other arm was flung loosely around me. His naked arm. Attached to his naked chest. From which my nose was an inch. And my nose was attached to the rest of me, which had... where were my pyjamas...?

I had slept with Victor last night. I had  _slept with_ Victor last night. I had slept with  _Victor_... breathe...

He suddenly frowned in his sleep, and his arm tightened around me. "Makkachin... spi dal'she..." And his breathing evened out again. I froze. What did he just say...?

He was sleeping on his left side. His fringe of hair that always covered his left eye was out of the way... some of his eyelashes were silver too... was his nose ever not pink...?

My right arm was squished between us awkwardly. My left was... was over his ribs, holding him to me too, just under the duvet. Further under the duvet, my legs were entangled with his. Again, I had no idea where my clothes were, but  _they weren't on me_. I was... naked, and... so was he...

 _OH MY GOD_...

Memories hit me like a freight train.

Victor launching from the kiss and cry into me, his lips crushingly hard against mine, so impulsive he almost missed, and the slam of the air out of my lungs as my back hit the ice.

Staring at the ugly off-orange tiles in the shower as shock rendered me still, the water my only source of warmth, unable to compute what had just happened.

Wiping the mist off the mirror to stare at my reflection, not recognising myself, this man who had been kissed by Victor Nikiforov.

Creeping out to find the room empty, a note on the bedside next to my phone saying he'd gone to the bar with Chris. My first emotion; a twinge of jealousy.

Being seized by Phichit, and trying my hardest to feel something for him, because I was his friend and I wanted to be happy for him, I really, really did. Phichit taking one look at my face and so obviously deciding  _not_ to ask me what had happened at the kiss and cry only a couple of hours ago, and of him unsubtly hinting to Leo and Guang Hong not to mention it either, despite the obvious excitement on their faces (because  _Victor Nikiforov_ had just... just...).

The burning sensation on my neck as I  _knew_ Victor was watching me. And then the longing for it as the burning went away. Longing for... for...  _him_...

Asking him if we could go. Not being able to look at him in the elevator. Not being able to breathe.

The look on his face when I asked him, hoping that one of us knew what the hell we were doing, if I wasn't the first, knowing what I was about to do next. Feeling the smoothness of his skin on the tips of my fingers. The last sight of his awed face as I closed my eyes, inching closer nervously... the softness of his lips... The tug around my neck as he pulled me in by my tie, the sensation of my own weight not being mine as he crushed me to him, having to reach up to kiss him, the solidity of his shoulders, the taste of champagne on his tongue that sparked...  _something_... that made me all the more hungry for him.

The awkwardness when I had to pull away from his lips, of opening my eyes again and hoping in a split second that it was all real and that he wanted this just as much as I did, and the answering hurry as we started to undress each other. The bereftness as he kissed me,  _hard_ , and then told me to wait, and I had to watch him leave my touch, my space to switch on the bedside lamp, turn off the light switch and the air-conditioning, flung the bed cover down, and then the  _relief_ as he came back to me, but also the frustration of being abandoned, half-naked, for such small things, even though the room felt less... stark now. My hands shaking as I unclasped his belt, unzipped his trousers, pushed them all down, kicked off my shoes and toed off my socks. Still annoyed about the lights and the aircon, I spun us round, and shoved him, his lips ripping from mine as he fell on to the bed, and the astonished look on his face as I straddled him, his answering, hungry growl as I dug my fingers into his hair.

_The feel of him against me, my knees either side of his hips..._

I growled in the back of my throat when he went to turn us round, to lie me down, pulling the covers with him. No, and I bore my weight against him, pushed him down instead, and he clumsily managed to drag the covers over me anyway, and suddenly feeling grateful that my bare ass wasn't on view to the world. Then... then...

I had to stop thinking about it. I had to get out of that bed.

I started by untangling our legs, moving my hips  _away_. I looked up at Victor's face. He was still sleeping. I removed my arm and slowly started to slide out of his -

He frowned in his sleep. I froze. He didn't wake. I moved again. His arm fell to the bed with a heavy thunk and he frowned again, curling up, like he was cold. I quickly tugged the duvet up around him, tucking him in, and he slept on.

Somehow I had got this wrong, or so it felt. Victor was the one who was covered, and I was standing there completely naked. I darted to the bathroom, grabbing my glasses on the other side of Victor on the way, yanked one of the hotel robes from the back of the door, and shut it behind me. I fumbled for the light in the dark, and winced as it switched the noisy ventilation on with it. And then I did a double take at my reflection, and I forgot to put the robe on for a second.

My hair was a mess. Just about every strand was sticking up in the wrong direction. My lips looked...  _abused_. I had bruises on my hips, and... were those teethmarks on my neck...?! More memories came back, of Victor kissing -  _sucking_ \- on my neck as he moved my fist over him... of his fingers digging into my hips to keep me still as... In the present I gripped the edge of the sink, needing to keep upright. I felt  _hot_... I... I wanted to... I glanced at the door...

_No... he's asleep..._

My own reflection was too much to handle and I turned my back on it, and slid down to sit on the floor, the tiles cold on my ass and against my back as I leant back. I clutched the robe to my face, hiding in it. I... I couldn't stop...

I couldn't stop  _smiling_.

I could remember  _him, Victor_ , his face flushed so close to mine, under me.  _"Yu-Yuri... oh god... I'm s-so... so close... please don't stop, please don't... shit -"_ And then his free hand seized the back of my head and he kissed me, hard, _whimpering_ , and his whole body shuddered, and my eyes opened wide, out of focus, unable to deal with a blind world full of the sound of him moaning and the feel of him shaking with pleasure and his essence on my hand and my stomach, and the  _smell of_... I had no idea that sex could be so...  _pungent_.

I couldn't take my eyes off him as he panted after beneath me. Then... then he looked irritated, I don't know what at, at me?! He flung himself on top, kissed me hard,  _punishingly_ , pressed my shoulders to the bed so I couldn't move as he slid down my torso, kissing my skin, and I caught one last sight of his teasing smirk as he yanked the covers over his head and -  _oh god_... his mouth was warm and wet and... I cried out so loud I slapped my hand over my mouth, startled by my own voice. Electric pleasure raced up my spine, bowing my back, both outwards and inwards in turn. My knees locked around his sides, needing to hold on to something. I couldn't... I couldn't keep still, it felt  _so good_... My brain short circuited. I don't have words left to describe how it felt. I...

My stomach interrupted by grumbling so loudly it echoed around the bathroom. My eyes widened. What the... I tried to remember when I last ate... I didn't eat at the banquet, or after... after the free skate... or really before... breakfast yesterday? Did I even eat breakfast...?

A very different memory jumped to the front of the queue, barging ahead both mercilessly and mercifully of my memory of crying. Of Detroit, sitting with Phichit in the dorm kitchen, with one of the other skaters from the club. She wasn't there long, but I remember she was very, very bubbly and chatty, and I remember just  _watching_ her talk in that kitchen and realising that she was terribly homesick and sympathised instantly. She was British, and she'd made a joke about how she had no idea what 'local food' could mean in Detroit, but that she couldn't talk because the only truly British food that she could think of was the full English breakfast, and she laughed, because chances are most of that probably wasn't English in origin either. She was probably right, but nonetheless it was her ultimate comfort food. She said that if she won any competitions, or got a personal best, or landed a jump that she'd been working really hard on, or if she was hungover, or if she was just having a bad day, she made up a plate of bacon - cooked her way - scrambled eggs - because she didn't like any other kind, and she added  _so_ much butter - sausages - which I had never tried before, other than hot dogs, and she insisted that that didn't count - and toast - again, lots of butter. She made it for us one rainy morning, filling the kitchen with a distinctly salty and meaty smell. It was her katsudon, I said, and I offered to make it for her in return. I don't think I did in the end; she went back home not long after, missing it too much.

I got up from the bathroom floor, finally put the robe on, tied the sash tightly around my waist. I splashed water in my face. Got a flannel, and wiped my stomach, blushing. Brushed my teeth, hopeful... Turned off the light, and gingerly left.

Victor was still asleep, exactly where I had left him. I felt vaguely disappointed, and relieved. I finally noticed...

Our clothes were thrown  _everywhere_. I thought there would be a trail of them, leading to the bed, but no... my shoes were over by the wall, nowhere near even each other, our shirts were on opposite ends of the room. Only our jackets were precisely where they had been dropped from our shoulders. My light blue tie was near the bin. I tiptoed around, picking up the debris, grinning at the descriptor in my head, and... I was going to fold them all up neatly, thinking of the fact that we would have to check out that morning, but... it seemed too strange, folding up Victor's clothes. I kind of just deposited them on top of his suitcase.

I glanced at the time. It was about seven thirty in the morning. It was eight thirty back home. It made me think of waking up at eight fifty in the evening once, sprinting to Ice Castle to prostrate myself on the ice before my god of a coach. I glanced at him. I could see that he had moved after all; his arm had moved up, like he was cradling something small and invisible to his chest, or protecting his heart. I wished I hadn't gotten out of bed after all. Too late now; I'd probably wake him up if I climbed back in.

My stomach growled again, no longer patient. Reluctantly, I went and picked up the room service menu that was on the other side of him, and dialled. The answering voice seemed overly loud to me, and I tried to whisper what I wanted but it was no good; Victor groaned, shifted, and finally turned over and peered at me sleepily. "Golodnyy... hungry..." I clutched the phone to my ear, and amended the order; make that for two. I put the phone down, and stood there awkwardly. At least I had the robe on, despite all those sessions in the onsen.

Victor rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and then smiled dreamily at me. "Ohaiyo."

I couldn't help but mirror his smile back. "O-Ohaiyo."

Silence.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and his eyes flickered to the phone. "Was that room service?" I nodded. "Breakfast?" I nodded again. "Good... I can't remember the last time I ate." The corner of my mouth twitched too. I was just thinking that... He turned over, facing me, never taking his eyes off me, frowning slightly. "Yuri..." I suddenly realised I had my hands clasped in front of my chest, as though I was afraid I might need to catch my heart bursting out of it. He lifted a hand from the mattress, and... and beckoned. "Come back to bed."

I... I hesitated, my breath catching. Then my feet were moving forward without thought, and Victor shuffled back, into the spot I had vacated, and I lay back down next to him, the both of us on our sides. His hair fell back in front of his eyes, and I realised that his was all dishevelled as well. He tucked the duvet in around us, left his arm over the top, anchoring me. "Yuri..." My eyes widened in response, and he frowned. "Are you alright?"

I... I felt horrified. We had... he shouldn't be worrying. I... I nodded again. I was so nervous, I didn't know what to say,  _at all_ , I -

He shuffled closer to me, looking... why did Victor look nervous too? "Yuri. Are you worried about... about what we did, or..." He trailed off, bit his lip, deciding his words carefully. His lips... they... they looked like mine in the mirror. "Or... or not doing it again?"

... What...? He... Victor, he... he looked so nervous too. And  _hopeful_...  _hopeful_ that this wasn't just one night... He swallowed, and when he spoke again he really did look sorry. "I'm sorry, Yuri, but... I need an answer for that one. I -"

I'd just spotted his neck, and my fingers automatically reached out towards the red marks on his skin, marks I hadn't noticed when I woke without my glasses. His breath caught. I'd kissed him there, mimicking his own sucking kisses on my neck last night... I did that. I trailed my fingers up his slender neck, felt his pulse jump at my fingertips, up over his jaw, over the faint stubble that never showed because of his light hair, and my thumb lined those lips of his that I had kissed. He gasped, and my fingers hooked under his chin and I crossed the distance.

I moaned when I kissed him again. It was the morning, it was light, I could see with my glasses on, and he was kissing me back, pulling me flush against his body, rolling me on to my back, one hand deep in my hair and the other clutching the collar of my bathrobe. I gripped his back, wishing I hadn't put on this infernal bathrobe after all. When we had no more oxygen left Victor suddenly deflated, collapsing on me, digging his arms under my back, his face burying into my neck, and I realised he was hugging me. "Oh _Yuri_..."

I... I hugged him back, let my eyes flutter shut. His weight on my body felt so good...

I remembered. I'd told him I loved him last night. I'd fallen to pieces, overwhelmed by how happy I was, how good I felt, my anxiety frustrated because it had no argument left, because Victor said... he said...

 _Me too_.

I didn't have it in me to tell him I loved him again. Slowly, Victor raised his head from my neck, peered down at me with a teasing smile. "How much time do you think we have until room service knock?" I... I couldn't speak, could only give a sympathetic smile back. He didn't mind. His eyes flickered to my robe. "I'm glad you put this on then..."

I shrank into myself, fidgeted my hands on his bare shoulder blades. "I'm not..."

Victor's eyes widened, and then he laughed, and kissed me again before he'd even stopped laughing. I had forgotten about the food.

"Victor?"

"Hmm?" He trailed light kisses down my jaw, towards my ear.

"A-After... after we've eaten... will... will there be time?"

He froze, his lips at my pulse, making me tremble. He slowly lifted his head to gaze down at me with wonder. Then he smiled tenderly down at me. "We'll make time."

I reached up to kiss him, and he moaned contentedly against me, sending my brain haywire.  _I loved that sound_...-

There was a knock on the door.  _Kuso_.

Victor groaned irritably into my mouth and sat up reluctantly. Then he grinned. "Should I answer the door like this?"

"EH?" He was already getting up.

(He didn't. He got a bathrobe too. I was glad I picked up our clothes, though the poor young woman who brought the trolley in didn't seem to know where to look.)

He teased me by saying he'd feed me sausage. I just groaned at the terrible,  _terrible_ joke. I told him about the girl who made Phichit and I english breakfast, lamenting that the mass-produced food couldn't compare to hers, and apparently her cooking wasn't even that great, according to her. Victor however didn't mind; bacon is difficult to make really badly. He started multi-tasking, his energy restored, gathering our things. I got up to help, but he ordered me to sit back down on the bed and carry on eating; it would be a while yet until I could eat katsudon at home. I laughed, did as I was told, and watched him.

He moved so fluidly about the room. He could have been skating... even as he made me laugh - he'd found my tie near the bin, threatened to leave it there - I couldn't take my eyes away. He was munching toast and timing every bite with picking something up. It took him twenty minutes to get everything that didn't need to be out packed away, neatly too. A byproduct of competing for so many years; you learn how to live out of suitcase and how to check-out quickly. I'd never quite mastered the hang of it, was always afraid of forgetting something, packing and repacking several times. He'd watched me pack for Beijing only a few days ago; no wonder he told me to sit down.

Victor finally finished, taking stock of things left lying around the bathroom, giving the hotel products a sniff to see if they were worth snagging. He glanced at the plates - I'd been so distracted I barely ate more than a couple of bits of everything, enough to shut my stomach up - and back at me with a smile. "Done?" I smiled back, nodded.

A beat. I ran my eyes over Victor, stood in the bathroom doorframe. We both glanced at the clock; it wasn't yet nine. We had to check out at ten.

He was on me in a split second, and we fell on to the mattress, the duvet kicked down towards the foot of the bed, out of reach. I didn't care; our hands scrambled at each other's bathrobes, and then his skin was on mine again, heavy and smooth. We both tasted of bacon.

"V- _Victor_..." He'd just sucked on one of the hickeys on my neck.  _Oh god_...

"Hmm?" He was teasing me, trying to sound nonchalant. Except he was panting and grinding his hips against mine.

"I...  _oh_... I want..."

He kissed me, pulling at my bottom lip with his teeth. "What do you want, Yuri?" He moved his hand between us, started stroking both of us...  _oh_...

"I-I... I want you in... I want you inside me..."

Victor froze. He removed his hand, lifted up a bit and cupped my cheek tenderly, teasing forgotten, looking down at me with awe. "Are... are you sure?"

 _Yes_... I had never wanted anyone so badly. I wanted to know what it felt like, to do more than just touch him. He kissed me again, and then whispered against my lips. "Just give me one second, okay?"

I nodded reluctantly, and then he was gone, into the bathroom, out of sight. I sat up, trying to get my breath back, trying not to feel nervous about what I had asked, about being there naked and vulnerable. I resisted the urge to grab the duvet and cover myself. For a few seconds I could hear Victor rummaging about, and then he reappeared in the doorway, a condom and a bottle of lube in his hand, blushing from the admittance that he was carrying around either. I didn't even think to ask him why he had them, not until much later.

He came back to me slowly. "If you want to stop,  _any time_ , it's fine... alright?" I just blinked at him, wide-eyed. "Yuri?"

"Y-Yes," I finally answered.  _Just get back into my arms already_...

He kissed me tenderly then, the hunger and heat simmering but not boiling over. I wrapped my arms round him, pulled him down with me as I laid back, and I heard the scratch of the condom wrapper against the bedsheets next to me. "It's going to hurt a bit, the first time..."

I nodded. I wasn't naive. I still wanted this. I ground my hips against his again. Please...

I heard the bottle top clip open, and then a flatulent oozing sound, and then he moved his hips away from mine, and before I could complain my eyes widened as his wet fingers found...  _oh my god_...

"You okay...?" Victor panted. Even though... oh god, it was overwhelming... nothing felt like this, of his fingers slowly sliding in and out of me, preparing me... it felt  _good_ , even with the stretch...  _yes I wanted this_... I realised my eyes had fluttered shut, and I opened them to see Victor's face... he looked...  _desperate_... I nodded. He nodded too, nervous. He kissed me as his fingers kept on, flooding my body with foreign sensation. With his free hand he grasped the wrapper, tore it apart with his teeth, withdrew his fingers from me, drawing out a bereft moan from me as the feeling ended, and then... then...  _then_...

My head fell back, and I gripped the edge of the bed. It  _hurt_ , like old rubber bands snapping continuously. I cried out, and Victor bit his lip, trying to school the look on his face. He'd already paused, waiting before pushing fully into me, and he stroked my face soothingly, peppering my cheek with kisses. The sting faded, to background noise... present, but not as important as - I pulled at his hips, and he slowly slid the rest of the way into me...

For a while, a long while, Victor kept us still like that, locked together like jigsaw pieces. He ran his hands down my sides, down my thighs, kissing every inch of me he could reach without moving. I... I could barely think. He was inside of me, I could feel him _everywhere_... my Victor... I moved, bending my legs up to wrap them round the back of his thighs, and dragged a groan out of him as the angle changed, gasping too. I looked up at him, feeling...  _bare_... and...

He was trying so hard not to show how good it felt for him... baka...

" _Move, Victor_..."

We didn't last. I begged him, loudly, to not hold back... My hands flew over his body, wherever I could touch him, my hands shaking. He reached between us, touching me as he thrust in me... He shifted angle slightly, and my vision whitened out, beyond pleasure. When I came back to myself I was still trembling, my body drained, and he was gasping on top of me, already softening.

I was sore, and I'd never felt more alive, even though I could barely move.

Victor kissed my jaw, where he could reach without moving too much, and slowly pulled out of me, shushing me as I winced. He dealt with the condom quickly, and then folded my limp body into himself. I... I fell asleep for a bit, as he stroked my hair.

He chuckled a bit when I woke, asking how long it had been. "Only five minutes, my love." His eyes were hooded, like he had wanted to sleep, but had kept himself awake, just... just to hold me. "I'm sorry, Yuri, but we don't have long before we have to check-out." I glanced at the clock, and blanched. "I'm going to take a shower quickly. Get all your things ready, don't rush though; if we're late, we're late." Victor got up, squeezing my hand before letting go, and disappeared. I heard the water run in the bathroom, and I realised he'd wrapped us up in the duvet again, to keep me cocooned.

Slowly, I got up, dressing in the bathrobe again. I shoved more toast - gone cold, but I didn't care - into my mouth, and grabbed what I needed; clean t-shirt, trackies, underwear, ankle socks for my trainers. Everything else was done. I finally checked my phone; Phichit had messaged me several times, asking... I couldn't look. Not yet. I sat down on the bed to think why, and winced.

"Yuri, shower's free..." Victor came out, and stopped short. My breath caught in my throat; he was just in a towel, hair dripping. I smiled and stood, made to go in to shower too, but he seized me, hugged me tightly. I realised I was shaking... "Yuri, I... I'm so -"

I wrenched myself out of his arms, shaking my head adamantly, holding on to his shoulders. "Victor... don't... don't say sorry... I..." I blinked away tears. "It... It is... s-sore, but...  _I feel so good too_... does that... does that make sense?"

He pulled me back in, burying his face into my neck again, and I fell against him. He smelt wonderful... "Yes... it does."

I won't lie; I'm glad the flight was only from Beijing. When we got to the airport, Victor turned on his mega-watt smile and upgraded us to first class before I could stop him.

We've barely slept apart since.

* * *

* * *

**...**

**...**

**Are you... hmm... are you sure you want this in the book?**

**... No... but...**

**?**

**You got to gush to Heradi-kun. I... It was different then. I just wanted to... get it all out, I guess. Can we... can we figure out which bits to keep and which not to later?**

**Mochiron. I...**

**?**

**You make it sound like... like I did okay... You were freaking out so badly then. I wasn't sure what to say or do. So I just...**

**You were yourself.**

**... I was so nervous too.**

**I know. I loved you for that.**

**... Ureshī...**

* * *

 To be continued...


	6. Refuge

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

  _A low, mournful sound; brass. The boy falls from his straight pose into a foetal position, kicking backwards. The lonely opening chord ends._

_And is answered -_

* * *

CHAPTER 4

June/July

_Refuge_

* * *

* * *

It was... strange. I'd been spoilt up until then.

Minami-kun treated my every word like gospel, never disagreed or answered back. Which, I knew even then, was a bit limiting. With Victor, it was a dialogue, but ultimately I always thought he had a better idea of what he was doing that I did. I was like a beta instead; I checked everything he did first. Phichit was similar, but in reverse: I taught him, and selective performers from the  _King and the Skater_ the choreography for the show, and they asked questions to understand better, asked for my feedback. With Guang Hong it was minimal: I sent him videos of the choreography for  _Endlessness_ , and occasionally he'd send me a video back to show how he was progressing with his coach, and the bits that she had changed.

Yurio however... ugh... I'm sure I don't need to tell you that whilst he was an excellent student,  _he was a complete pain in the ass_.

We had to start from scratch. Everything he had been working on before was... it was from a time when he could go home and gush about it to his grandfather, about how his fellow competitor and friend had inspired him. So for the first week, we did two key things: we broke down what he had learnt, finding scraps of bits we were likely to keep, and then we stuck his iPod on shuffle, and just listened, and skated, and started crossing songs off lists.

Since his friendship with Otabek had started, Yurio's musical tastes had changed. To date, he had only ever skated to classical pieces, finding strength and beauty in the rich history of our sport, but in private he was... well, let's call it what it was: he was an emo. A lot of rock. I... It's really not my cup of tea. But after Otabek introduced himself in Barcelona and offered his take-it-or-leave-it friendship, Yurio had found out that the Kazakhstani was, as well as being an exceptional skater, a DJ. When Yurio came of age, Otabek invited him to Almaty, to the club he played at, and whilst Yurio had already browsed through Otabek's music through his social media, he had never been submersed into the completely different context to the dance music he had previously gagged at all his life.

Before his grandfather had passed away Yurio had wanted to skate to pieces by a couple of no-copyright artists he'd discovered through Otabek online, and had been battling it out with Lilia and Yakov to skate to something entirely different. He had been losing the argument, even after I helped him polish up the choreography he'd been working on. His coach and choreographer had put it very bluntly to him: he wouldn't win. (Victor and I disagreed. It's not about the piece or the choreography nearly as much as it being about the skater.)

But I digress. The point is that by the time Yurio came back to Hasetsu, his iPod was half full of rock music, like  _Welcome to the Madness_ , and dance and house music that Otabek had recommended to him.

Over the loud speakers of Ice Castle, I found it a bit... much. I struggled to imagine choreography to a lot of it, and tons of it did not lend to the right fit for competitive programs in any case. Wrong length, wrong stresses, wrong meanings, just... it was not the fault of the music (if Yurio likes listening to this stuff, then that's for him), but where would you fit jumps, spins, steps, narrative even? Narrative wasn't necessary of course - that was my influence, and Victor's; we told stories with our skating, made a language out of it, even if we were the only ones who understood - but... this was, so very obviously, the season for Yurio to tell  _something_ through his skating. For me, this was my starting point; what was that something, and then how to tell it.

So it's kind of funny that the Short Program didn't come from Yurio's iPod at all. It came from the regulars at Yu-Topia, channel flicking in the dining hall. I heard it like a call.

I think it was because I had heard it before, because it sounded - and therefore _felt_ \- familiar. Besides... who isn't a fan?

"Chotto... chotto matte!" I seized the remote control from Minako-sensei's hand, ignored her as she pulled a face at me. I switched the TV back to BBC Worldwide and stared. And listened.

"Oi, Katsu-sensei, what -" Yurio started, his mouth full of rice, but I shushed him. There was a ghost flittering through, being answered... I found it.

_"P.S.: I know you two. And if I'm gone, I know what you could become."_

Victor looked up, frowning curiously, his attention grasped.

_"... Because I know who you really are..."_

The guys started talking in the corner, wondering why I was on my feet, why Victor was beginning to stare, rapt. Yurio frowned, and then finally followed our example, and listened.

 _"Will you listen to me? Who you really are, it doesn't matter. It's all about the_ legend _."_

I looked down at Yurio. Could he hear it? I caught the smile on Victor's face. He had, at least.

_"The stories. The adventures."_

Yurio blinked.

_"There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone."_

The grin on my face spread. _Yes... this was it._

_"When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope."_

I could see past the screen, on to the ice. I could see Yurio rising like a phoenix.

 _"... like they've always been there, and they always will._ The best _and_ wisest men _I have ever known..."_

Yurio snatched up his phone and started searching on Youtube, on Google, manic,  _inspired_. It didn't take long.

 _Who You Really Are_ , by David Arnold and Michael Price, was born in Yu-Topia Katsuki Onsen on any normal day. We didn't even need to send it to Ketty. The three of us ran out to Ice Castle to start immediately.

By the time the sun came up, the light found Victor asleep on a bench still in his skates, me sitting on my ass on the ice panting from exertion, and Yurio still standing, covered in sweat, his hair a complete mess, his green eyes alight,  _smiling_.

That was the easiest bit. We never looked back.

The Free Program... was a different story.

* * *

* * *

When Yurio completed the Short Program, I sent the invites out. Russia. China. The US. Czech Republic. Italy. Thailand. Switzerland.

The clock began to tick in earnest.

Work finally finished on the house, and slowly, we started to move in as the summer drew to a close.

We were worried about making Yurio feel like we had... abandoned him, so we took our time. Yuri and I talked about the possibility of him moving with us, but...

"Let's be selfish," I said one night, stroking Yuri's hair on my stomach, whilst he stroked Sobachin's ears on his.

He looked up at me and smiled with relief. "Hai. Let's. I... it's meant to be  _our_ home. Yurio'll understand."

A pause. We both pulled faces as we both realised that  _of course_ he was wrong. No, Yurio wouldn't understand, at all, that we might want our own space. We both burst out laughing, making Sobachin raise her head confusedly, then pant happily. Yuri turned over, shuffled up so he could lay his head on my chest. I smiled as he wrapped his arms round me contentedly, and I pressed a kiss into his hair. "We're getting married after all..."

A split second later, the connecting door to Yurio's room slammed open, and Yurio himself stared at us, in a tiger-print t-shirt and boxers. "You're WHAT?!"

Oh yeah... we forgot. We didn't tell him...

Both Yuri and I blinked at him, speechless. Then he pulled a face, as he completely forgot the news and realised that... well... I sleep topless,  _at least_ , and Yuri was lying on top of me, and there was no telling for Yurio what was going on under the covers at our waists.

Sobachin panted, unperturbed.

"Ugh..." And he slammed the door shut again.

 _Oh my god_... we both snorted with laughter, making Yurio yell at us to shut up through the wall, which only served to make us laugh all the harder, making our sides hurt all the more. Oh my god, I was in tears, the look on his face... We hadn't laughed that hard in what felt like so long.

* * *

* * *

The completion of  _Who You Really Are_ gave Yurio added confidence. We needed it. It was July already, and we were terribly behind. Some skaters had already started competing. Yurio came to thank us for it later, but Victor and I had been strict on a particular rule from the beginning; eyes on the Grand Prix, nothing else. It was the only thing we entered him for. Once the final was over, we'd then see.

There was an exception, although technically it wasn't a competition. Really, it was an excuse, but we'll get to that.

The problem with  _Who You Really Are_ however was that it set a musical genre; to follow it with anything on Yurio's iPod would have been too jarring. Still, he kept coming back to one particular track. Eventually, he became insistent. I wasn't sure about it, but... Yurio had latched on to it, had found something that resonated with him. He couldn't even put into words why, though... I heard it so many times,  _have_ listened to it  _so_ many times since those early days. I know why.

So I took a leap of faith, and I sent it to Ketty, and asked her to do her magic, and meanwhile started choreographing to the strange synthesis.

The piano at the core of the track helped. And after night after night of listening to it on repeat with headphones, I could hum to it. When I realised I could do that, I stopped choreographing to the track, and to my humming instead. I sent Ketty a video of bits of the choreography that I had worked out to help her, with some notes on the narrative that was forming in my head. In answer, she sent back a demo of  _her_ singing the lyrics.

I was still working with Minami-kun at this point, though he had - and he's a saint for this, for understanding so quickly - agreed to scale down to one day a week when he didn't have classes. I remembered the Short Program I had choreographed to  _Rydeen_ for him, and asked how he can come to hear the marching band's rendition of it. I had looked up the school myself out of curiosity; the wind ensemble made it to the National competition that year. It turned out that Minami-kun knew one of the euphonium players, and he told me, gushing proudly, that she had gone on to attend Tokyo College of Music. I mentioned her name to Ketty, and that of her friend, the trumpet player whose solos were out of this world.

At the end of July, as the contractors started finishing on the house, Ketty sent the piece back.

I played it. Again. And again. I seized the book that Victor was reading out of his hands and shoved my headphones on to his ears. Startled, he was silent through the whole rendition, expressionless. Then he looked up at me, grinned and nodded. I scrambled out of bed with my laptop, wrenched the connecting door open into Yurio's room, ignoring him shouting at me, I jammed the headphones on his ears too and hit play.

"The hell is this?"

I just shook my head, skipped back to the beginning, and turned up the volume to shut him up. _Just listen_ , I implored.

He recognised it immediately, and went silent.  _Don't you dare say no now_...

The track ended, plunging us all into silence.

"H-Hmm..."

Victor peered down from the door as I held my breath. "So... what do you think?" He asked, slipping into Russian.

Yurio stared at both of us in turn, his face... I couldn't read it. I didn't know if he liked it or was trying to figure out a way to tell me he didn't... except it was Yurio; surely if he hated it, he would have just said so. Bluntly, rudely. Instead...

"I..." He swallowed nervously. "C-can I listen to it again?"

"Uh... mochiron... I mean... of course..." And I hit play again. I looked up at Victor, silently asking whether he could read Yurio either. He shrugged silently; no, he couldn't.

Yurio asked to hear it again. Then, he took off the headphones, looking away.

"I..." His green eyes started to swim. "I can... I can hear Gr-Grandpa..." And finally his face screwed up and he started to cry. But even as he wept he nodded, nodded even when I hugged him tightly to me.

I remember that Victor and I had once agreed that there were always hazards putting extreme emotions on to the ice. I thought, fearfully, of Georgi Popovich, and his season of heartbreak. I wasn't sure if putting grief into Yurio's Free Program was -

He suddenly swallowed and ripped himself out of my arms, smiling through his tears at me. "I want to skate to this for Grandpa! He would have loved this!"

I was still wary. But...

Victor put it best later. "There's really no point in denying what he is feeling. It would be more unnatural to  _not_ dedicate his skating to Nicolai."

I had the music. I now had a narrative. And I had August left, before...

Before  _Onsen On Ice 2._

* * *

 

* * *

**Ne, Victor?**

**Hmm, nani?**

**... Will it sound really stupid to say I miss him?**

**Yurio? Of course not, why would it be stupid to say... oh, you mean, you miss coaching him?**

**... Y-yeah...**

**... Honey, if I had known you were into masochism -**

**VICTOR!**

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're under no obligation to, but I would recommend listening to Who You Really Are by David Arnold and Michael Price.
> 
> As for the quotations... never thought I'd reference Sherlock in my writing...
> 
> And shout out again for Hibike Euphonium!


	7. Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... if you're not up for reading a bit of hanky-panky... well, you've really gotten a bit lost, haven't you? Never mind, you have been warned though.

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 5

August/September

_Nest_

* * *

* * *

We would be accused of pulling favourites. Well...  _duh..._

 _Of course_ we did! This was no ordinary exhibition. It was an excuse, and not just the one we gave to everyone. The one we gave to everyone was pretty much just emotional blackmail; the actual reason was a surprise.

And you know how I feel about those...

Some needed no excuse. Phichit excitedly RSVPed within an hour, cleared his schedule, and started practicing, retaining Celestino again and eagerly messaging Yuri back-and-forth ideas. Otabek also didn't need to be told why we were hosting an exhibition in Hasetsu just before the start of the Grand Prix series, and agreed. Minami squealed... we took that as acceptance.

Others were more difficult. Yakov replied that Mila would not be able to attend, but Mila, once I told her that it was for Yurio, worked on Yakov until he eventually caved. I say 'caved', I think he realised the futility of objecting, to both myself _and_ Mila, and decided to treat the event as seriously as a bonafide competition. It helped that, once Mila said she was coming, Sala accepted as well, along with Emil, and thus so did Michele.

Of everyone, Chris alone guessed there was more to it. "Of course I'll come, but... what are you _really_ doing, Victor-Coach?"

I didn't tell him. I thought about it, but decided against it in the end. But enough about that for a moment...

As the heat of August bore down on us, I left Yuri and Yurio to focus exclusively on Yurio's skating, and started moving Yuri and I out of Yu-Topia.

I had phone lines and broadband installed, checked that all the power points we had put into the centre room worked. All of the rooms bar that wonderful skylit centre had small attics, so I got boxes into storage - all our old costumes, medals, trophies (we had a small display of them in our office; the key ones we had won during our lives together: one Olympic gold, four gold World Championships, two gold Grand Prix's and a silver), and bits and pieces from my old place. I got new kitchen stuff; pots, pans, utensils, crockery, lots and lots of chopsticks. I put shelves up, bought picture frames, printed our favourite photos and started placing them in every room. In the spare room I installed a shrine for Makkachin, Vicchan, and lit incense for Nicolai whenever his grandson came round.

I hired a gardner and begged her to sort out the jungle that the overgrown mess had become. I bought pot plants, lined the kitchen window with herbs.

I put a full sound system into the ballet room, received the stand-up panel mirrors to line the walls (on the backs were traditional Japanese sceneries, for when we didn't want to be surrounded by our reflections and just use the room for something else).

I bought bedding, and covers. I bought blinds. I bought a lot of dog beds, big ones, as Sobachin had taken after Makkachin and not Vicchan.

(I wish I had met him, Vicchan, my tiny name-sake. As Sobachin got older, and we were able to leave her in the house by herself, it both amused and touched us that she seemed to gravitate to the spare room, where she had company of a sort.)

I did a lot of cleaning. We could have hired someone for that, I suppose, but... I was nesting. It was part of making our home. It made me think of Mrs Kachi, who looked after me whilst I was training as a Junior. A small, fussy old woman, who was affectionate and gentle and had  _no_ discipline, and who never seemed to grasp that my skating was far more than a hobby, an indulgence, but who encouraged me nonetheless. When she passed away eight years ago, I had long moved out of her care, but I hoped that by winning my first of a long string of Golds that she would have finally realised the greatness of my achievements, that it wasn't just something I did after school anymore. She would have been proud anyway. Maybe... maybe not so much of Yuri, but... she's not here any more.

At the end of August, Yuri presented Yurio's first full run-through to me and the Nishigori's (we told the triplets that if they even recorded, let alone uploaded anything, they'd forfeit their VIP seats. They complied). His  _Who You Really Are_ was perfect, ready. We'd taken some cues from the source material for his costume; dark, with a distinctive collar, and hints of red stitching, pinched in at the waist. We had joked about dying his hair brown and making it curly but it fell a bit flat because Yurio genuinely looked like he would kill us if we took one step closer to him.

As for his Free Program... yes. Just...  _yes_.

After, I took Yuri home.

Soon after, we put up the first posters for  _Onsen On Ice 2_ , and Yuuko called us to say that the tickets were all sold out within a couple of hours.

As September began, everyone started to arrive.

* * *

* * *

I was so proud of him.

Victor, I mean. Yurio too, of course, but I mean...  _our home_.

I felt bad. I hadn't been as involved in everything as I had hoped in the spring, when we had first spoke of moving out, but... I couldn't fault anything Victor had done. In everything he had considered whether I would like it, from the softness of the sofas and cushions to how thick our duvet was, to the colours in every room. There was something everywhere that matched the colour of my glasses; aqua glass wind chimes in the windows, a single wall painted blue in the spare room, odd tiles in the bathrooms... I'd never actually told him that blue's my favourite colour, always had been, long before I was caught in the stare of his eyes. He just figured it out from the underlying theme of my wardrobe, and my things in my old room. And my phone cover, my headphones... okay, so it wasn't difficult.

It... was emotional, moving out of the onsen. Not least because Yurio was there, sulking because Victor and I were making a fuss of 'just moving across the river, it's not that big a deal'.

I gave Oka-san a long hug, trying not to get upset when she told me how proud she was of me, and promising to look after Yurio for us. Oto-san hugged me too, squeezing me so tightly my ribs protested. Mari-neechan just shrugged at me. "Onii-chan, it's not like we're not going to see you -" I hugged her anyway, nearly scratching myself on her earrings. She hugged me back too with a laugh. She doesn't get hugs from me all the often, it was something to be savoured.

Victor winked at Yurio and said he could move into our old room if he wanted.

"Shut up, dumbass!" Then he just pouted, annoyed. "... Thanks."

We both chuckled at him. "Come over for breakfast tomorrow before training," Victor offered. "Take Sobachin for a walk so we can have a lie-in."

Yurio pulled a face. "Umm... okay..."

Yurio showed up at the crack of dawn, with some jab about how we had better have his favourite cereal, and didn't even notice the fact that Victor answered the door in nothing but a dressing gown and a sleepy glare. He... heh... Victor didn't get much sleep, you see...

To backtrack, Victor and I walked across the bridge to our new home, with Sobachin excitedly leading the way, and I let us all in for the first time.

It was... quiet. I'd been there many, many times before, it wasn't like I hadn't seen how things were going as the roof was fixed and all the rooms done up and helped Victor with flat packs. But... it was quiet, compared to the constant noise of the onsen; the hot water trickling in the hot springs, the chatter of guests, the TV, Mari-neechan's footsteps, the bustle of the kitchen.

Sobachin scampered forward, and plonked herself contentedly in her bed in the centre and Victor toed his shoes off, hung up his jacket, stepped into his slippers and followed, turning on lights. Then he realised I hadn't moved, and looked back at me. "Yuri?"

I... I was afraid... I was afraid it wasn't real... like any second now I'd wake up and find out it was all a dream, that Victor and Sobachin wouldn't be there...

It must have been written all over my face, because Victor smiled understandingly and reached out his hand to me. I fumbled with my shoes, with my slippers, and he took my hand and pulled me into him, hugging me tightly. He felt warm, solid, _real_... I buried my face into his shoulder as he stroked my hair soothingly, and I could feel his cheek stretching into a smile as he whispered into my ear.

"Yuri, we're  _home_..."

His voice quivered, like... like he couldn't believe he could say that either, like... like he was so happy he could cry.

My own face split into a smile too. I had once thought, three years ago, when he first came to Hasetsu, that it was the happiest I had ever been in my life. In three years, there had been so many moments when I thought it again; when we came home from the Cup of China and I snuck into his room, nervous that it might have all been a one-time fling after all and he kissed me again; when we skated as a pair in Barcelona; when... so many,  _many_ moments. I knew, even then, that this moment would be topped by another, soon, but...

Reader...  _I was so happy..._

Victor pulled back gently and kissed me softly. "Go on, run us a bath. I'll start getting dinner ready."

So...  _domestic_. I nodded, kissed him back, and we went our separate ways. I smiled as I heard him humming in the kitchen before I started running the taps, added some of the aromatherapy oils he'd put on the side, tested the temperature of the water on my fingers. It all reminded me of living together in St Petersburg; of looking for decent Japanese ingredients so I could teach him how to make even half of the things he had eaten in Hasetsu, of lazy nights on the sofa, easing out the aches in each other's feet; of nearly shrieking at how cold it was every time I went out with Makkachin. Of learning new things in the bedroom, the door closed so Makkachin couldn't get in the way...

I turned back, walked past Sobachin, who wagged her tail at me and stayed where she was lazily. I admired the sight of my fiancé chopping vegetables to chuck into a slow cooker, trailed my eyes over the muscles of his back through his shirt, the curved line of his spine, lower... all mine, just as I was all his. I glided up behind him, and sighed as he lent back against me automatically, tilting his head back so I could kiss his jaw. His eyes met mine...  _and we fell on each other._

The knife clattered as Victor shoved it and the chopping board away as he turned in my arms, his mouth hot on mine, his fingers pulling tight on my hair before I yanked his shirt off. As I attacked his chest with my tongue he groaned my name loudly and fumbled at a nearby drawer, and shoved a tube of lube into my hand. Even  _starving_ for him I still chuckled. "Do people normally keep -"

He silenced me with a kiss, and  _growled_ at me. " _Christening-the-house-just-get-inside-m_...  _aah_..."

I did as I was told. We shoved our trousers down awkwardly, and he stepped out of his to wrap his legs round my hips - I still had my t-shirt on - and he nearly banged his head on one of the cabinets as I slid my fingers inside him, rushing to get him ready, and I put my hand over the cabinet behind him so that when I finally slid inside him, the back of his head hit my hand instead.

" _Oh God_...  _Yu... Yuri..._ "

It finally dawned on me that I didn't have to keep quiet anymore.  _Victor_... his panting alone sounded loud, louder than the pounding of my heart.  _Oh my god_... it felt so long since Koh Ai, since our hotel room at the World Championships, since we had lived in St Petersburg...  _I'll never get enough of this... oh god... I wasn't going to last_... I tilted his hips just right, and watched as Victor's eyes widened as I hit his prostate, saw his knuckles whiten on the counter, felt my hair tug in his fingers, and -

I managed to gasp his name before I came with unintelligible moans, and mine tumbled out of his mouth like a beg as his eyes rolled back as he fell over too. Oh god...

"That... that's the kitchen done..."

Even as I struggled to get my breath back against his skin, I pushed out a giggle. "Please tell me you haven't left lube in every room..."

"... Not in the spare room."

I rolled my eyes and pulled back enough to kiss him. He moaned when I pulled out, slowly let his legs down, kept me close so he could strip my t-shirt off me, kissing me and blurring the line between post-coital bliss and foreplay. "Victor?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you hungry?"

Victor met my gaze, and I could see him wondering what I meant; hungry for more or hungry for food? I... well, I meant both, though not together... He shook his head, and I knew he meant food. Neither was I. "Are you still running that bath?" I nodded. "Let's... let's go there..."

Like I said, we didn't sleep much that night.

* * *

* * *

**... Yuri.**

**?**

**You have two choices. You can either stay exactly where you are...**

**... Or...?**

**Bedroom. Now.**

**... Have you still got it in the drawer of the desk -** **mmph! _Mmm..._**

* * *

To be continued...


	8. Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suspect you might have been waiting for this...

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 6

September

_Everything_

* * *

* * *

Where... where were we...?

Oh... Onsen On Ice. 2. Right...

Yuri, stop grinning, it's distracting.

Not long after we christened the house, we began preparations. We booked rooms for everyone in a hotel in Fukuoka, and organised a mini-bus to bring them all here to Hasetsu. Otabek came early and stayed with Yurio at Yu-Topia to catch up with his friend, and Phichit came to stay with us before joining Guang Hong, Leo and Celestino in Fukuoka. Mila stopped by at Yu-Topia too, and just grinned, relieved, when right off the bat Yurio called her Baba like always. She hadn't seen him since the funeral.

We checked the weather forecast, and saw that we were in luck; the day of the exhibition was due to be bright and warm, so we ordered sparklers and lights for the garden.

Yuri and I took advantage of our proximity to Ice Castle and started practicing in earnest again. For this was the line-up:

 

KATSUKI YURI & VICTOR NIKIFOROV

PRESENT

-

**_ ONSEN ON ICE 2 _ **

-

KATSUKI YURI - YURI PLISETSKI  
TBC

-

VICTOR NIKIFOROV  
_On Love: Eros_

_-_

CHRISTOPHE GIACOMETTI  
TBC

-

PHICHIT CHULANONT  
_The King and the Skater II_

 -

EMIL NEKOLA - SALA CRISPINO  
_Don't worry_ (Pair)

-

KATSUKI YURI - VICTOR NIKIFOROV  
_You Only Live Once_ (Pair)

-

LEO DE LA IGLESIAS  
TBC

-

GUANG HONG JI  
TBC

-

KENJIROU MINAMI  
_Solo Dance_

-

OTABEK ALTIN  
TBC

-

MILA BABICHEVA  
TBC

-

MICHELE CRISPINO  
TBC

-

SALA CRISPINO  
TBC

-

EMIL NEKOLA  
TBC

-

YURI PLISETSKI  
TBC

 

When I sent out the invites, I asked everyone to exhibit one piece, and emphasised that it could be anything. It could be a program they were preparing for the season, or something they had already performed, or something completely new. Sala very sweetly replied back and said she and Emil had been working on something together, could they do that too? They were so good! It was funky, uncomplicated, and they moved perfectly together; Michele fumed the whole way through. Phichit chose to give a preview of a piece from the upcoming sequel to  _The King and the Skater_. Chris... Chris was being a tease, he retired a year ago; he did  _Intoxicated_ again, just to seduce us all again with those asscheeks of his that he had kept so taut. Unlike his fellow competitors Minami announced right off the bat that he was going to debut his Short Program.

Yuri and I got to use our ballet room as we had intended, and modified  _You Only Live Once_ so we could skate together as a pair again, as we had done for  _Stay Close To Me_ and  _History Maker_ , reverting back to the original version of the song as Yuri had originally intended. We made all the spins pairs, made the step sequence like a chase. It was so much fun!

 _Eros_ was easy to remember. I made Yuri blush every time I practiced it. My rendition is, of course, the story of how we originally met.

As for the two Yuri's... I wasn't allowed in to see them practicing. They didn't spend enormously long on it, so that they could focus on Yurio's closing performance. But... oh! They made me so proud! It was  _Shelter_ , again the original version of the song as a challenge for the pair of them, so that Yurio could perform to dance music after all. Then they purposely made it synchronised... all the way through the step sequence, every spin, keeping careful distance, _perfect mirrors_ of teacher and student. The piece wasn't set to usual competition standards, having no intention of performing it again; it was a present.

They did a synchronised quadruple toe loop. Ice Castle - packed to the rafters - exploded in cheer. Then they did it again.

Morooka whispered to me during it, his eyes bugging out. "Is... is Katsuki-kun thinking of...?"

Oh, I would have loved for that to be the case, but no.

Well... no.

It wasn't without drama. This is  _us_ we're talking about. Guang Hong, Leo and Phichit took snaps of everything for Instagram, including Chris daring to do his piece naked - Yuri was  _mortified_ , the photo of him trying to stop Chris from unzipping his costume is  _hilarious_ \- and Mila showing off that she could still lift, Yurio's legs kicking angrily, only for Otabek to show off the same move on  _her_. There was the usual pistols-at-dawn between Michele and Emil, yet they cheered the loudest as they each debuted their upcoming short programs. Sala asked me slyly if I had invited Seung-Il (no); I just looked at her, thinking... she was with Emil now, and ought to forget the Korean.

And then Yurio took to the ice last, and everyone held their breath.

It begins by gliding softly, quietly across the ice, to not interrupt the conversation between the violins; lots of sweeping arms, before the first jump - quad toe, triple toe combination - to speed things up. Then spins. Then, at the climax, a triple axel from a spread-eagle. A maddening step sequence, before flying high across the ice, at the ultimate height of the music, generating speed. It ends, right at the last second, with a quad flip, before screeching to a triumphant halt.

Well, that was the final version at the GPF. In Hasetsu, it was a quad toe-double toe, and the last quad ended up a triple, but he didn't over-rotate, swinging straight out of the jump perfectly into the centre, just as Yuri taught him to.

 _Magnificent_. And Yurio  _grinned_ all the way through the second half. He reduced  _Otabek_ to tears.

His theme was 'Family'.

Yakov, who came with Mila, just as we hoped, watched in stony silence, and, as the audience erupted with applause, he turned to Yuri and shook his hand. He didn't say anything, just shook his hand. Yuri looked like he was going to do a Minami. Hell, all of us looked like we were going to do a Minami. Then Yurio came off the ice, and we all jumped on him.

Maybe this is what fatherhood is like. Yuri and I were so, so, so proud of him.

Less than four months ago, it looked like Yurio wasn't going to be competing that season. By the time  _Onsen On Ice 2_ ended, Otabek, Emil, Michele, Guang Hong, Leo and Minami were all in awe, even a little worried. The Ice Tiger was back, and had made his intentions very, very clear. Yuri Plisetski was going to reclaim the top of the Grand Prix podium this year; they were all going to have to try their damnedest to stop him. Best of luck, gentlemen.

We threw the after-party at our house; our housewarming/after-party and... Yuri and I disappeared after a little while to get changed, leaving Phichit, the only skater who knew, to monitor how much Yurio had to drink under Mila's bad influence, and make sure no one left.

Everyone was there, everyone that we cared about. Yurio. Yakov. Phichit. Celestino. Kenjirou. Guang Hong. Leo. Chris. Mila. Otabek. Emil and Sala. Michele. Hiroko and Toshiya. Yuuko and Takeshi, Axel, Lutz and Loop. Minako. Sobachin.

"So... you're probably wondering why we invited you all here to Kyushu just for an exhibition," I announced. Yuri clasped my hand tightly, nervously.

Everyone's - except Phichit, who was already taking photos - jaws dropped at the sight of us. In matching, all-white versions of our  _Stay Close To Me_ duet costumes.

"Y-Yurio..." Yuri called out nervously, and our beloved little brother gulped and stepped forward with a sheet of paper that we'd given him to read out. "W-Will you do us the honour?"

And, before our friends and family, we got on our knees.

* * *

 **Я беру тебя в мужья**  
**чтобы быть с тобой всегда**  
**в богатстве и в бедности**  
**в болезни и в здравии**  
**в радости и в печали**  
**с этого дня до тех пор**  
**пока смерть не разлучит нас**

 

 **私はこの男性と結婚し**  
**夫婦となろうとしています。**  
**私は健康な時も**  
**そうでない時も**  
**この人を愛し**  
**この人を敬い**  
**この人を慰め**  
**この人を助け**  
**私の命の限り**  
**固く節操を守ることを**  
**誓います。**

* * *

  
  
  


* * *

Victor's hands shook in mine. Or maybe mine were shaking so badly they made his shake. In any case, we were both crying as we repeated our vows, our dearly beloved gathered to witness.

I don't think we've ever shocked any of them more.

Of course, my family, Yuuko, Takeshi and Minako all knew. I told them what Victor and I had planned. We gushed to Phichit the second we landed in Bangkok and he picked us up from Arrivals, and then we swore him to secrecy. He knew all along what the exhibition was a cover for. As for Yurio... well, we asked him to read out our vows the morning after he found out we were getting married. I translated the kanji into phonetic Cyrillic for him. He likes to deny it, but he was in tears too, kept hiccoughing on Victor's vows. But Victor had memorised them anyway, just as I had.

Oh, everyone's faces. Mari-neechan and Minako were gushing tears. Minami-kun was bawling, looking like he was going to suffocate. Leo and Guang Hong both wore identical shocked faces that slowly morphed to grins. Celestino shouted 'Bravo!' Otabek blinked a lot, a little wide-eyed, then clapped. Sala and Mila both started gushing, complaining tearily that if they had known they would have worn nicer dresses. Emil seized me in a hug, seized Victor in a hug, Michele in a hug to make him screech.

My parents... looked at me, at Victor, at us both with such pride... that really did make me cry. I'm so lucky, to be their son.

Yakov... I think he smiled. I think? He kind of looked a little less grumpy, congratulated his Vitya, shook my hand again (I can't believe he did that... I got a handshake from Yakov Feltsman... Yuri, focus) and then he left soon after.

Meanwhile, the triplets were freaking out for a while and uploaded even more photos than Phichit, so I had to abandon my phone for a while as it pinged, the internet going crazy. Nishigori-kun just patted his wife on the back with a smile and happy tears. "Our... our little Debu-chan got... got married to his... his idol... ureshī!"

"I knew you two were up to something," Chris said with a wink. Victor smiled apologetically but Chris shook his head; it was okay. "I get it now, Victor-Coach. I envy you." And then he hugged us both, for once not groping my ass. "Tell me you have lots and lots of champagne..."

Victor laughed. "I can probably rustle up a pole for you too..."

Oh for... I left them to it; Yuuko needed napkins.

Later Yurio came up to me. I was... I was a little tipsy by then. I may have pulled him into an awkward hug, because he nearly fell over my lap and I carried on nuzzling him anyway, like he was Sobachin. Maybe he was drunk too, because he let me. "Hey, Katsu-sensei... you know... you know this doesn't... this doesn't  _mean_ anything... right?"

I sobered a little, and looked out over the garden.  _Our_ garden.

By then, the sun had set, the fairy lights were on. Light streamed out of the house. Phichit, Celestino, Guang Hong, Leo and Minami-kun were sat in a corner, laughing over memories. From the hand gestures, I guessed times that we had all fallen on the ice. Chris and Minako-sensei were having some kind of ballet dance-off, all pirouettes and pointed toes, and Mari-neechan was laughing at both of them, taking photos on Chris' phone. Mila was flirting with Otabek... his face was so difficult to read I had no idea if he was interested or not. (A few weeks later, at Skate Canada, after Mila won Gold, he asked her out for a coffee.)

My parents had gone home, with the triplets; it was past their bedtime. Emil and Sala had gone back to Fukuoka; I didn't know this then, but they ended up having a fight, made up, and Sala finally stopped wondering what could have been if someone else had shown as much interest in her as Emil did. I hoped things work out of them... one way or another. Realising his sister had snuck out, Michele left too with a congratulations, shaking both our hands and thanking us for the honour of taking part in  _Onsen On Ice_ , in all of it.

And my... my husband was with my two childhood friends, talking animatedly, all of them laughing as they puffed out their faces, and I realised they were talking about me. Victor felt my eyes on him, smiled and winked at me.

_Yuri! Starting today, I'm your -_

"Doesn't it...?" I slowly answered Yurio.

"Not like..." Yurio struggled over his words. "I don't mean... it's not official, or anything, so..."

I ruffled his hair, just to irritate him, to  _shut him up_. "I got married today, Yurio."  _Don't be my anxiety for me._ His eyes widened...

"Is Yurio trying to persuade you to run away with him?"

I looked up with a grin as Victor sat next to me. He ruffled Yurio's hair too, but the boy batted angrily at his hand, making us both chuckle and he clambered out of my lap to sit beside us. He looked like he was going to say something more and then stopped short.

He was staring at... Victor had put his arm round my shoulders, his left arm, and I had treaded my fingers through his, our rings together. Our pair rings that we had bought in Barcelona nearly three years ago. Victor and I had had them engraved, unable to choose new ones. Across the bands read, in Kanji and Cyrillic, 勝生 - Никифоров.

_Katsuki-Nikiforov._

"Yuri... spasibo." I knew Victor wasn't talking to me for once. "You read our vows beautifully. Arigatōgozaimashita."

Yurio blinked, and realised that Victor had been talking, sincerely, to him, and he looked away from our enclosed hands. "Hm-mm. Pozhaluysta. Umm... dōitashimashite." He slowly smiled, and addressed the stars. "I... I'm happy for you both. Really. Pozdravleniya."

* * *

"So this is it, huh?"

I glanced at Chris, and smiled as he toasted to me. I chinked glasses. "Mais oui, mon ami."

"Ugh, mon dieu, your accent is even more terrible when you're rusty." Chris winked at me as he took a sip of his champagne. "Although I guess I might have to learn Japanese, not Russian, just for your sake."

" _When_ did you learn Russian?" I teased back.

"Hmm, point taken." He glanced over our shoulders, nodded towards the house, towards all of it. "It's fantastic, Victor. I'm happy for you."

"And?"

"Ugh... _and_ I'm insanely jealous." He glared at me, and I laughed.

"Christophe Giacometti jealous of Katsuki Yuri, who would have thought it..." I teased, and instantly regretted it. That was insensitive, I had only meant to wind him up.

Chris frowned at me. "Not of  _him_ , mon cheri. Of  _you_." I met his eyes, surprised. He was... amused, not offended. He winked again and then pouted. "Think of me when I'm gone in Lausanne. All the fits ones are either in the closet, or taken, or - worse -  _straight_."

I burst out laughing. I was so glad to be able to laugh with him, there in my home. "How's that going anyway, in Lausanne?"

"Hmm, comme çi, comme ça. Oh, before I forget, give me your phone."

I handed it over. "Why?" I asked anyway.

He didn't answer. He pulled a face at the growing number of messages and notifications, ignored it all and opened my Instagram. He searched for someone, followed them, and handed my phone back. "When you get a moment, check him out."

"Who is it?"

I flicked quickly through their Instagram profile. It was of a teenage skater: tall, with blue-streaked short cropped hair, skinny. Lots of baggy clothing on the ice, and there was something to every poise, every expression. Steely determination, like the subject dared you to  _object_.

"His name, at the moment, is Madie Calpern. He hasn't decided what his name will be yet, but everyone calls him 'M'. He lives in Brighton, in the UK. He qualified for the Adult Mens Singles class for the British Championships, but pulled out when there were questions about whether he should be allowed to compete, because -"

"- Because he's a 'she'," I finished.

Chris reluctantly accepted the description. " _Technically_. Anyway, Em pulled out to start reassignment. When his treatments are over, I want to sponsor him, _if_ he still wants to skate, of course." He smiled proudly at me. "He's good.  _Really good_. I want him to skate against your Yurio one day.  _He'll beat him_."

I grinned at the prospect. I've always been proud of Chris - he made me work  _hard_ for every gold medal we competed against each other for, for ten years - for being, defiantly,  _himself_. I wish him all the luck in the world, because I know that this is what will make me the proudest yet.

I'm glad I've got Christophe in my life. As a competitor, a comrade, a co-conspiritor. The number of times in our youths - not that we're even that old now, or so I'm telling myself - that we escaped the drudgery of ISF etiquette to make trouble... I remember how, in Sochi, he shoved his drink into my hands, having had enough of just watching the two Yuri's dance off, and  _ripped his shirt open_.

 _"Mes petits renards!"_ He announced, and Yuri and Yurio came to an abrupt halt (Yuri fell over). _"Can you do this?!"_ And Chris dropped his trousers and threw himself on to the pole (to this day, I have  _no_ idea what it was doing there). I remember Yurio looked aghast, and Yuri just squinted (he'd lost his glasses, I picked them up for him) and then suddenly grinned and dropped his trousers too and joined in. It hurt so much, laughing.

Chris found me when Yuri walked away. He guessed what might have happened from the look on my face, patted my back, and then started pre-moaning about his flight to Zurich.

And, of course... DUDE!!! HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?!?! PUTAIN DE MERDE!!! X-D

I reached over in the present, and kissed him on his cheek. Chris blushed, looked at me like I was mad. "C'était pour quoi?"

"For sending me that link three years ago."

He smiled, raising an eyebrow. "You know you would have come across it eventually..."

I shrugged. That didn't matter. I knew Christophe better than that, knew he'd seen me smitten and dejected. He'd never sent me anything before, not like that, not even a tagging in a meme. No stray impulse that; he would have known what it meant, even if he had no way of predicting the outcome.

I owe him. "Hey, if this Em decides to carry on skating after, let me know."

He winked at me. "Oh,  _I will_ , Victor-Coach."

I was thirty years old. I had a house that I made a home. I had a dog again, our Sobachin who was playing with Minami. Everyone about me was smiling, chatting, laughing. I felt like an adult, as silly as that may sound, even as I laughed with Yuuko and Takeshi about how cute Yuri was when he was chubby, both as a child and when I came to Hasetsu.

When I sat down next to my favourite man and boy in the world, I saw Yurio stare at our rings. I wondered if he was remembering what he said in Barcelona, about proving the rings' incompetence. Then I saw the smile on his profile, perhaps glad that he was wrong. I meant it, when I thanked him for our vows. It had been Yuri's idea; we both care more about him than anyone else.

We sat there quietly for a bit, the three of us, on the veranda edge. The stars were out, shining brightly. I wished we had fireworks - we'd chosen not to, for the benefit of our neighbours, and it was a bit much for Yuri. But we did get -

I jumped to my feet. "Yuri! Yurio! Come on!"

They chased me down to the beach, everyone. We didn't need explosions and bangs in the sky, we weren't like that, Yuri and I. But we were always bright...

* * *

* * *

To be continued...


	9. On The Ice

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 7

_On The Ice_

* * *

* * *

I looked about me, and what I saw filled me with such happiness.

Phichit, Leo, Guang Hong and Minami-kun had all fallen asleep, sprawled across the sofas in the living room, snoring, all talked out. Chris was in the spare room, spooning the pillow in just some magenta underpants. Yurio, Otabek and Mila had gone back to my parents' with Mari-neechan. Celestino had gotten a taxi back to Fukuoka (we did try to tell him how far it was...) and everyone else had already gone. The house was filled with the sounds of our friends.

It was late, but I... I couldn't face going to bed yet. I don't know why... I was restless.

I closed the veranda doors, and the ballet studio went quiet with the absence of the outside, of the faint sound of lone cars crossing the bridge, of the river, of leaves rustling in the breeze. It was just off a full moon, but the stars were out too; even though the lights weren't on, everything was glowing around me.

Just as I shivered from the Autumn cold, Victor appeared, wrapping his arms round me, slotting himself into my space like the other half of me. I hummed happily as we rested our cheeks together, and let my eyes close. The restlessness was gone.

"Today was a good day," he whispered.

I smiled, and nodded. Yes. Yes, it was.

We both turned our heads towards each other, kissed, and went back to admiring the moonlit-garden.

"Although..." I was smirking before Victor even said it. It had gone through my mind too. "This was not how I envisioned our wedding night."

Someone chose that moment to snore particularly loudly, and we both tried not to giggle. "They were all too drunk to drive home, we forgot to nominate someone to stay sober. Plus..."

"I don't think we actually had any soft options anyway."

We both chuckled again. I leant back into him and smiled contentedly, let my eyes shut. "We've got forever to make it up to each other." And I held his arms round me a little tighter too.

I felt him smile against my cheek. "You look tired."

I nodded. "Hmm. Long day. Good day, but long day."

Victor started swaying me slightly, rocking me gently towards sleep. "So much for  _stamina_..." I opened my eyes, turned my head enough to glare at him, but didn't have the heart to in the end, even in jest. He looked tired too, his eyes also closed.

"I love you."

His eyes fluttered open, met mine. I had told him I loved him in so many different ways today, starting in bed that morning, then on the ice through our skating, with our vows, in Japanese, in Russian. But not in the language we both used together since he first came to Hasetsu, that so many can understand too. Any way that I could tell him, I wanted to utilise.

Those seas of aqua wavered. "I love you too."

We kissed again, still swaying, and I knew why I felt restless. There was something we hadn't done, other than that which we didn't particularly want everyone to be able to listen to. "Wait here."

I went and fetched my phone, where I had forgotten it in my suit, from which we had both changed earlier, wanting to feel more comfortable. Sobachin raised her head and yawned as I scratched behind her ear at the foot of our bed, and she went back to sleep as I fished out my earphones from a drawer. My breath caught as I returned to the studio, my husband silhouetted against the world, on my side of the glass. He smiled as he saw what I had brought back, like he had been thinking something similar. "Dance with me?"

I smiled back, nodded, and went to him. "What do you want our first dance to be to?" I asked him, as I fitted one earphone into my ear, handed him the other.

He thought for a moment, then held out his hand for my phone. His fingerprints are saved on it.

I folded myself into his arms, hugging him really rather than dancing, as the piano played. My song.  _Our song_. The song about how our lives became so much better, so much richer, so much happier, when we came into each other's lives. Too tired to move properly, we just swayed, holding each other. He stroked my hair, I nuzzled my cheek against his collarbone. I was in the best place I knew in the entire world.

We slept so well that night we missed our train. Yabai. We were late for our honeymoon.

* * *

* * *

**Yuri?**

**Nani?**

**What possessed us to think that climbing Mt Fuji for our honeymoon would be a good idea?**

**What possessed _us_? It was  _your_ idea!**

**... Oh yeah.**

**You said you'd never seen it before; every time you were in Tokyo to compete it was too cloudy.**

**My feet at the end though...**

**I know. I always think of Koh Ai as our honeymoon anyway...**

**Hmm, watashi mo. We never did things in the right order, did we?**

**Hmm?**

**I met your parents, and we lived together before we _got_ together; our first date - sightseeing in Barcelona - was two months after we first slept together; and we got rings long before we got engaged.**

**Hehe, yeah, I guess we did. Look at us now though.**

**... I am, moya lyubov'.**

**...  
** **Ne, Victor... where do you want to go next?**

**On vacation? Hmm...**

**You know, I've never really gotten to see Japan much. I've competed here so many time, but, never... Chris and I used to duck out of sight a few times, if we managed to get away from Yakov and Josef, but we just went partying, we never really saw anywhere.**

**Neither have I. I've never really seen anywhere in Japan either.**

**Let's do that then! We could get the Japan Rail Pass thingy and -**

**I think those are only for tourists, Victor. You're a permanent resident now, we don't qualify.**

**Meh, we'll do it anyway. Our own rail trip!**

**Hmm! Okay!**

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those are all my photos, by the way. Tokyo, Nikko, Hakone, Kanazawa, Kyoto, Nara. Good days.


	10. Interlude - Hasetsu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to anyone who stumbled across this when it was under maintenance! Happy with it now, enjoy!

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

INTERLUDE

April

Hasetsu

* * *

* * *

The nap was not intentional.

Sobachin looked up from her basket, and wagged her tail, glad to see I was awake. I smiled and reached out for her; she immediately scampered up, butted my hand with her wet nose, and then sat at my feet, waiting. "Want to go for a walk, Soba?"

She huffed at me. I took that as a yes. I looked up; Yuri's desk chair was vacant, his laptop shut. I listened. I could tell he wasn't in; normally if he wasn't in the office during the day he was next door in the ballet studio, and I could hear neither music nor him. I sat up, and realised I didn't have my own laptop; I'd been typing before I fell into my nap. It was on the desk next to Yuri's, with a note and my glasses neatly folded up.

_Gone to Ice Castle to practice, told Sobachin to look after you. Join me when you wake up?  
あいしてる x_

I smiled, at two things: what he had written, and the fact that I could read that last so easily. I still have to concentrate on translating Japanese most of the time. As for my writing... ugh. The less said about that the better... I need to try harder with it. When I first committed to learning, after we left St Petersburg, I read a lot of manga; had to start somewhere. I deliberately try not to read anything in Cyrillic or English anymore, to force the habit. On the computer it's harder though; automatic translations, and half the internet's in English anyway, plus my keyboard's in the latin alphabet.

I'm quite proud of myself actually. I'd lived in Hasetsu for years, and it was rare that I heard something that I didn't understand, or couldn't figure out the meaning of. So much of what we say we can deduce from the context and the rest of the content. Yuri, for me, uses the little Russian he remembers from when we lived in my old apartment in St Petersburg, and we speak English at home, because we always have, and when Yurio was here the three of us would speak in English. But these days sometimes I'll start talking and realise later that I was speaking Japanese instead. I don't often remember my dreams, but they're never in Russian anymore; the first time I dreamt in Japanese I woke up and hugged Yuri, waking him up, so I could gush to him.

Yuri... I wondered what he was practicing today.

I got up, stretching out of my chair - it took  _months_ to find this chair, it's essentially a giant curved cushion that I can just sink into, I love it - and went and got my bag, slipped my trainers on, picked up Sobachin's lead, and called to her. We jogged to the rink, up those infernal steps we all hate, nearly slipping on the sakura petals littering the ground.

Yuuko smiled as she saw me arrive, got my skates out for me. "Have a nice nap?" She asked with a smile. She came out to say hi to Sobachin, who as always excitedly greeted Yuuko by licking her hands as she tried to stroke her head. "I messaged Yuri that it was quiet today. Want me to put a sign out?" Whenever we was practicing something new, we all preferred to close the rink down, to avoid any unwanted videos on social media. Sometimes we don't mind though.

"What's he working on?" I asked, toeing my shoes off and starting to lace up.

"Hmm, you'll see," she said with a teasing smile. "Nothing new though." She smiled again, knowingly. "I'll put the sign out anyway. I'll give you boys a shout if anyone wants to come in."

Yuuko, you tease. "My favourite Jumps at school?"

She chuckled. I can't remember when I started calling the triplets that, but it's a hell of a lot less of a mouthful than Axel, Lutz and Loop. "Yeah, back soon. Best get in quick."

Oh? I put Sobachin back on her lead before opening the doors to -

Ketty's piano was playing. I froze, and looked back at Yuuko, for any explanation. She just smiled warmly; _nothing to worry about_ , her smile said. I went in.

I tied Sobachin's lead up, so she couldn't run out on to the ice, and watched. Yuri... why were you skating your free program again?

This is why I love Yuri's skating, why he can skate like no other; with the tiniest of adjustments, he can change the entire story of a program. You wouldn't even be able to pinpoint what precisely he had changed, but it would simply  _feel_ different. Take  _Eros_ ; the first time he performed it to an audience, here in this very rink, it was a little nervous, truly a first-timer. In Beijing, it was  _sexy_ , seductive, defiant. In Moscow, aggressively so even. But in Barcelona, when truly being tested, those nerves kicked back in again, despite earning his confidence.

 _Yuri On Ice_ however... for the scoreboard, he was always expressing his career as a skater, and my effect upon it, and his success at presenting the program portrayed the progress of that tale. Today however... the story had changed. It... it was our story... beyond skating. Just for... just for us.

* * *

* * *

**It begins with a boy without a clue...**

* * *

* * *

  **... Who shone without ever realising.**

* * *

...

* * *

**So he went and hid from the world...**

* * *

* * *

**Just to make things difficult for me...**

* * *

* * *

**Hmm, because actually everything is all about you...**

* * *

* * *

**(It is.)**

* * *

* * *

**Eh...  
And so his hero crossed the earth... like a crazy person...**

* * *

* * *

**And whilst Yuri freaked out, a spell was cast to turn a piggy into a prince...**

* * *

* * *

**And you tried to cast another spell...**

* * *

* * *

**And the really crazy bit...**

* * *

* * *

**... is that it worked.**

* * *

* * *

**Really worked...**

* * *

* * *

**Really-really worked...**

* * *

* * *

**Really-really-really worked.**

* * *

* * *

**So even though things haven't always been perfect...**

* * *

 

* * *

**And sometimes things have been really hard...**

* * *

* * *

**And we haven't always done right...**

* * *

* * *

**I'll still be there for you...**

* * *

* * *

**... through thick and thin.**

* * *

* * *

**And no matter what...**

* * *

* * *

**... you'll always be...**

* * *

* * *

**... the only one I want to hold on to.**

* * *

* * *

**...**

**...**

**... We're so sappy, aren't we?**

**Haha, hai, we are... hehe...  
** **Ne, Victor... I read your drafts.**

**... And...?**

**Perfect.**

**... Really?!**

**Well, there's some little bits, hang on, where are they...**

**Yuri?**

**Hmm?**

**Your skating was beautiful today. Arigatō. Happy fourth Anniversary.**

**But?**

**?**

**Come on,** **there's a 'but' somewhere.**

**... You got rusty with your jumps.**

**... That's it? No very long spiel about my entry into the quad flip, or the fact I nearly touched down during the triple axel, or -**

**Yuri.**

**Heh?**

**You already know. You don't need me to tell you anymore.**

**... Oh.**

**... I'm going to have to start writing about Yurio now, aren't I?**

**It was his season after that.**

**Hmm. Our first year of marriage and we spent most of it worrying about _Yurio_. UGH...**

**Victor...**

**Yeah-yeah I know...**

**I know perfectly well that you don't regret a damn thing, not really.**

**I know. But this year... this year is _our_ year. Promise?**

**Hmm. Promise.**

**Come on then, let's get this over with. Remind me, what happened?**

**Hmm... start with -**

* * *

To be continued...


	11. Start

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 8

Early November

_Start_

* * *

_A trumpet answers the call of the euphonium, and together they sing across the barren. The hatchling lifts his head, tentatively rises, reaches out..._

_He is not alone... he is never alone..._

* * *

* * *

Minami-kun almost missed the train. Not really, but as if I wasn't nervous enough already.

"Have you guys had a fight?" Yurio glared at us suspiciously.

My heart - already pounding a little faster - sprinted. "EH?!"

Victor stared at Yurio, flummoxed. "No, why?"

Yurio pulled a face. "You're both... not... not all over each other. It's _weird_. I'm not sure whether I'd rather be grossed out or freaked out."

We both stared at him, not following, until Victor suddenly laughed. "Oh Koneko-chan, you're not the only one! We're not fighting. It's just that no one else likes PDA in public either."

"Huh?" Yurio looked around us. No one else, not that there were many people about, were touching either. As to be expected.

We were in Hakata Station, waiting for the Shinkansen Nozomi to Hiroshima. I'd told Minami-kun to meet us on the platform, and he should have been there -

"YURI-KUN!!!" The boy - he's a man now, but I still think of him as the boy from the CSK, because he's Minami-kun - dashed up to us, Odagaki-sensei following at a more leisurely pace. His eyes were big and glassy with apology. "GOMEN'NASAI!!!"

I blinked at him distractedly. Victor tried not to grin. Yurio raised an eyebrow. "Umm... your hair's purple."

I really hoped he wasn't late because he was dying his fringe purple. "What happened to the red?"

Minami-kun gave a watery smile, as though he was over the moon that I'd noticed. It was really difficult not to; his fringe was right under my nose. Literally, because he was still so short. "I just felt like it..."

I couldn't understand that feeling at all. I've never once thought to dye my hair - in Detroit Phichit and I got drunk once and he dared me to bleach it. I may have locked him out that night... It had been weird enough when Victor dyed his fringe black that one time for his first Grand Prix Final back. I was so glad when it faded out.

Victor... where was Victor... where -?

"Minami-kun, your bag is _enormous_ , what in the world's in there?" Victor brushed past me, and I felt his fingers gently stroke mine,  _deliberately_. I remembered to breathe...

I hadn't slept very well. Consequently, neither had he, but he was better at hiding it than I was. Just before dawn, by which Sobachin - who normally slept at our feet - had given up and grumpily left to sleep with her forebears in the spare room, Victor sat up, rubbing his eyes and narrowed them at me despairingly. "Yuri, come on."

He shoved me into the ballet studio, jammed my bluetooth headphones on my head, confiscated my phone so he controlled what I listened to, and left me to dance it out.

 _E, oh-oh-e, e-se, oh-oh-ah, I'm-a-e, oh-oh, e... e-so-an-da-oh-an-da-oh-an-da-oh-an-do-e..._ or something like that. It was a bit weird, substituting jumps with ballet kicks, and dancing alone, but Victor stuck the song on repeat, and tried to get back to sleep on the sofa just outside.

Gomen, Victor. I must have absolutely done your head in. But... it worked. A bit... I was still anxious all through the day - I'm so glad trains run on time in Japan. We don't do delays - but I could have been a lot worse.

Yurio still noticed though, which I had been putting all my energy into avoiding. We met him at Hasetsu train station, just in front of the squid-urchin statue, startling him because he was going through the step sequence for  _Who You Really Are_ , not caring at all that commuters were staring at him as they walked past (they'd stare anyway, all the tiger print and blond hair). Yurio took one look at my face and glared at Victor. "Have you been up all night doing the nasty?!"

"I wish..." Victor mumbled. Heh-heh...

So I was sleep deprived, both tired and _wired_  from dancing, nervous, then Minami-kun was late because his bag was so heavy he'd struggled to pull it along - "he's got four pairs of spare skates in there..." Odagaki-sensei told me with all the patience she could muster - and then, because I was worried about the time and missing the train, we had nearly an hour to wait. A long hour when I really wanted Victor to hug me and tell me I was an idiot for being so, so scared. But we couldn't, because of people. I'd been spoilt rotten by Victor's affection over the years; it was strange being in public and unable to be as we normally were, even if it did annoy Yurio.

I had to jog on the platform for a bit. "Victor-san," Minami-kun whispered to my husband. "Is Yuri-kun okay?"

I caught the look on Victor's face. He had no answer.

I almost cried with relief when the Shinkansen arrived, perfectly on time (of course). I was briefly occupied with helping Minami-kun get his wheelie suitcase on to the train; it only just fit through the door. Then Victor seized my hand and dragged me to a seat. He didn't let go.

The bullet train glided smoothly out of Hakata. For a moment, I even worried it was going in the wrong direction...

"Yuri."

I startled, turned so fast from the window that I almost have myself whiplash. Victor's aqua eyes caught me, held me... the world vanished for a moment, and I realised I was nearly hyperventilating. He gently rubbed his thumb over my hand and smiled gently. "I got you. Okay?"

Something in me cracked.  _It's okay, it's okay, it's okay_ , came the wave. It was his voice, my voice too. _Calm down, Yuri._

Victor handed me my earphones and tapped his shoulder. I leant into him, sighing. "Get some sleep, lyubov'. It's only an hour to Hiroshima. I'll wake you up with plenty of time, okay? Here..." And he stuck another song on repeat.

I was blind, with nothing but his scent and his warmth, and his song.  _lit_ (var). I closed my eyes, and let myself be drifted away. I was on the other side of the ice somewhere, and Victor was skating for me, to me. I could feel his cheek through my hair, the sound of his gold skates muted in memory. A boy cried with relief at being found, having been so lost...

"Is he alright?"

I woke with reluctance, and kept still. Yurio was peering over the back of the chair in front. Minami-kun nervously stared over too, looking so worried he was quiet. Yurio wasn't looking at me; he was fixed with Victor, his face serious. But not unkind.

Victor's thumb rubbed my arm, and he sighed before he answered. "He... Yuri's fighting off an anxiety attack." Yurio frowned; I could see his silent question on his face. Why was I so anxious? It was  _him_ skating. "Don't worry about him, Yurio, Minami-kun. He'll be fine. He's... he's just got to get this out of his system now, so that tomorrow he can focus." And I felt, rather than saw, Victor smile. "Yuri doesn't want to let you down, either of you. _He won't_."

Yurio stared at me, said nothing as he saw I was waking up, and nodded. "Okay." And he sat back down, tugging Minami-kun down too. I tugged the earphones out, so I could hear the rustle of playing cards and -

"Oh for -!" There was a lot of swearing in Russian for a moment.

My eyes widened and Victor grinned at me. "They're playing Exploding Kittens," he whispered. Exploding what? "I think Yurio just lost."

Before the train pulled into Hiroshima, my husband lifted up my chin and kissed me, just long enough for me to kiss him back, just long enough to last in my bones. We were hidden by seats, no one was watching. Then he stepped out of my touch, and I tried not to miss him. He was never more than a foot from me.

Home was over 300 miles away. There was no way to go but onwards. I couldn't afford to be... to be... to be having an anxiety attack. Of course, this is one of the worst things to think when you're in the middle of one. I know this, knew this, and I still stupidly thought it. What does 'affording' it have anything to do with it?

We checked in to the hotel, and Yurio and Minami-kun went off to mingle with some of the other skaters who had arrived as well. In the elevator up, Victor took my hand again. We left Yurio's things in his room, and Victor let me escape to the bathroom.

I splashed water on my face, breathed. Victor got a bottle of mineral water from the minibar, poured a glass, set it next to me, and rubbed my back tentatively. "Do you want me to go? Or do you want me to stay?"

I blindly reached out for his hand before I even started nodding. _Stay, please_. "Why now...?" I managed to rasp out. I had never been like this when I was Victor's coach, even that first year when my leg was still healing. I -

I had faith then. I never even needed to think that Victor would be anything by magnificent. Not just because he was  _Victor_ , but because I'd seen him transform tiny ideas into great ones. Why didn't I have faith now?

A living deadman flashed through my mind. Yurio staring down into Nicolai's grave like he himself was already down there too. I remembered, vividly, the tea cup that had broken on the floor in Yurio's room in Lilia's apartment.

"Because it really matters, my love."

I looked up at Victor, pushed my glasses back up so I could see him properly. He looked so... he looked like I had shattered my leg again. Like he would give anything so that I wasn't so scared, so that Yurio hadn't gone through so much.

 _He's right_ , my mind whispered to itself with mercy. I... I didn't want to let Yurio down. I didn't want to let Victor down either.

I finally met my own reflection in the bathroom mirror, and stared myself down. I stopped seeing what I was - petrified that I was going to fail them all - and saw what I needed to be. Yuri Plisetski's coach, who was going to help him win the Grand Prix Final gold medal. First things first, the NHK Trophy.

I straightened, took off my glasses, took a deep breath, and did what needed to be done; I slapped myself in the face.

"Yuri!" Victor reached out for me, just as I stumbled a bit, dazed. I'd slapped myself harder than I'd intended... ittai... "What... are you alright?"

"Hmm." I fixed myself a glare. _You're fine. Get on with it._ "I'm alright." I looked away, and smiled at my husband. "I'm alright."

Victor smiled back, relieved, and then started chuckling. "You've got your own handprint on your cheek. Baka."

... Shimatta.

* * *

* * *

He marched back downstairs and confiscated the beer Yurio had just ordered, replaced it with a glass of water, and told Yurio they were going for a run later. At the absence of Odagaki-san, and Minami-kun's laughing, Yuri turned to him and said he was coming too.

The looks on their faces... couldn't have been more different. I took Yurio's beer and tried not to chortle into it.

By the time they got back, we were set; I had all our passes, had given some soundbites for the reporters, waved hello to Yakov, who was there with Mila, and discovered the onsen on the top floor. Hence those photos that went viral of me carrying Yuri like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder to the elevators. Though I imagine potatoes don't protest and try to get back down.

Then,  _finally_ , Yuri slept.

I was surprised I wasn't more tired myself. I'd slept just as badly as he had, waking every time he tossed and turned. I'd already packed our things, so when I got him to dance away his restlessness I had nothing to do. So I turned the sofa around to face him, and watched, snoozing on and off until he finally came out, looking a bit better. Only a bit.

He had once told me that I didn't have to say anything, that I just had to stay with him. I've adhered to that ever since. But... I still hate how useless his anxiety makes me feel. I hate that there's no definite way to help him when it strikes. Sometimes he gets like this without any warning, even Yuri has no idea why sometimes, which makes him more anxious, not knowing what the trigger was.

I meant everything I did say though. That's one thing I've learnt to do; only say that which I mean, things that are true. His anxiety doesn't make Yuri stupid; he knows when I'm lying, when I'm just saying  _words_. Lies alienate.

The music helps, as does the dancing, but not always. Skating doesn't always help either. Or hugs. Or kisses. Or even comfort food. They can all work against him too. All of them carry multiple layers of context.

Like  _lit_ (var). For us, it's my Short Program, where I told the world how I fell in love with him. But originally the same beautiful piece is about a boy who struggles to redeem himself, having done some inarguably horrible things in ignorance and childish spite, and fumbled desperately to do better. In the moment, it's about how he realises that he's not alone, at the end of a heart wrenching, emotional journey. Feed that into a mind in a dark place, there's no guarantee that there'll be light. It might just cast more shadows.

But Yuri pulled himself out. He was still shaky for the rest of the day, quiet in front of the others, but he could smile again. He could sleep in peace. I needed peace too.

I went down to the bar, ordered a vodka on ice, and sat there, sipping it. Thinking.

Yuri told me once that, during his attacks, his thoughts aren't always fully formed, that they are not necessarily conscious. He can't always put his fears into words, that the content is sometimes beyond language. He tries to describe the feeling though... I hate it. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I was worried too though. Not... blindingly, like Yuri. His worries overwhelmed him, so he couldn't see the why all the time. I could see the trigger this time though.

I... I wasn't convinced that Yurio was ready. And neither was Yuri.

It wasn't Yurio's fault, or Yuri's, or anyone's. But he'd only had a few months to prepare; most skaters had had nearly twice as long to get ready for the season.  _Who You Really Are_ was fine; we'd been struck by lightning with that early, and Yuri took barely minutes to choreograph it. But the Free Program... was still too shaky.

Yuri was banking on Yurio's proficiency in jumping, was relying on not needing to worry about his technical score, and so he had focused on the presentation, knowing that his efforts would feed throughout the program. Yurio's skating had improved immensely under Yuri's tutoring; the teenager had grown with expression, but it... it was still lacking something. Something that we had in  _Who You Really Are_. All of us could skate that one blindfolded, with grins on our faces, because excitement was at the core of it. We didn't want fun in Yurio's free skate though, or not fun per se. Hmm...

It wasn't only that. He had stiff competition. Otabek was confirmed a place at the Final, having a Silver from Skate Canada, and Gold at La Trophée du France. Guang Hong stood a chance, having won the Cup of China, as he had always wanted to do (Yuri flew out to watch with Phichit, and the two FaceTimed me after Guang Hong's Free Program, knowing his protégé had won even before they released the scores. He'd been so happy, so proud) but lost his nerve in Paris and finished fourth. Emil was also in the running, with two Silvers from Lake Placid and Beijing. Michele looked like he was out this year; two Bronzes, from Beijing and Paris. Likewise Leo, who had won Skate America on home ground, but ended up fifth in the Cup of China.

Minami-kun already had a Bronze from Skate Canada, and needed at least a Silver in Hiroshima to qualify for the Final. Seung-Gil was also there, with the Skate America Bronze. And Yurio was starting fresh...

Speaking of...

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now, old man?"

I smirked. "I'm not the one competing tomorrow." Yurio paused briefly as he sat on the stool next to me; he didn't have a comeback to that, not even a glare. Given my worries, that was a foolish thing to remind of him right then. "Yurio, I -"

He silenced me with a look.  _Don't be so patronising,_ he said. "Katsu asleep?" I nodded. "Good. He looked like shit today."

I grinned. "Still managed to take you out for a run."

"Kenjirou got a stitch."

I snorted with laughter, picturing it; Minami-kun desperately trying to keep up, clutching his side. Oh boy... The sides of Yurio's mouth twitched, and he gestured to the barman. Who glanced at me, and poured Yurio a drink. The boy frowned.

"This is water..."

I said nothing, grinning like an asshole. Yuri, how much did you tip the bar staff? Yurio rolled his eyes and sipped his finger of water on ice, glaring as I did the same with my vodka.

"Hey, Victor... be straight with me -" I frowned, vaguely amused. It had been a while... "I'm not ready, am I?"

...  _What_...? I tried not to stare too wide-eyed at my protégé, who refused to meet my eye, deliberately glaring at his ice.

My silence was telling. Crap. But I had no idea what to say. It had been a while since I had had to do this, and even then, I wasn't great at it.

For the last two years I had been on Yurio's side of the ice rink fence, and I had had Yuri on the other, holding my hand. It had been easy, not always, but mostly; all I had to do was look at my beloved, and think of the programs we created together, and was eager to skate them for him. All Yuri had to say was that he loved me, that he believed in me, that he couldn't wait to see me skate, and he never needed to say so in words, so explicitly; the touch of his hand, the sight of his smile was all I needed, and the promise of the taste of his kiss when the ice was behind us.

And before that... I was Yuri's coach. After the Grand Prix, when we finally knew where we stood with each other, all Yuri wanted me to be was myself too. I hadn't needed to learn what to say in moments like these; it felt like a very long time ago since I had ignored Yakov lecturing me. Back then, I had been overly-confident - no, let's call it what it was, I was  _arrogant_. The last time I had suffered self-doubt like Yurio, I had been younger than him, nearly half my life ago. And I had never rushed like he had, to prepare programs under enormous emotional strain. Not even when Yuri was injured and retired, propelling me into his place, had it been this tight for time. I had no advice for Yurio; I had used the Russian block championships to practice competing again, had concentrated on my PCS scores, knowing that I could jump in my sleep. But Yurio...

... Had spent the last couple of months suffering from a lack of confidence that he refused to talk about, and had become as inconsistent as Yuri used to be when we first met. It... it was pretty heartbreaking, actually. Yuri had been pulling his hair out trying to improve things because... well...

"He's better than both of us," Yuri confessed once. He said it with tears in his eyes, but not for himself. "I don't know how to fix him..."

I was keenly aware of the fact that if Yurio didn't medal in Hiroshima at the NHK, his chance of making it into the Final were slim at best. Time to try a different approach. I thought of the last time I had tried that, and hoped to God this worked better this time.

I switched our drinks. "No." I told him the truth. "You're not."

Yurio stared at me, horrified. He hadn't expected me to be so blunt, to not come out with platitudes. "Wha... why the hell are you -"

"But that doesn't matter now." I downed the water, pushed the glass away, and ignored my surprise as the bartender professionally refilled it expressionlessly. "Just focus on tomorrow, because you  _are_ ready for the Short Program. You... you found your agape in that one..." I watched as the terror slowly washed out of Yurio's face, and knew that he had understood me. "Just remember how the program makes you feel. Leave the rest for Yuri and I to worry about."

Yurio looked away, at the untouched vodka. "But -"

"You've got this." He looked up at me, startled by my adamant. I smiled, because everything I was saying was true. "And if you don't, that's okay, because we've got you."

Slowly he nodded. I nodded too, drank my refill and gestured to his glass. "Drinking that?" He shook his head eventually. "Come on then. There are  _two_ Yuri's that need their beauty sleep tonight."

He rolled his eyes, waited as I paid for the drink, and I swung my arm round Yurio's shoulders, whether he liked it or not. "Ooh, and tomorrow, Yuri's going to tell you to downgrade your jumps, so you can focus on your presentation. Listen to him, and do as you're told."

Yurio narrowed his eyes at me. "Why? He didn't listen to you..."

"Yes, and if he had, it would have saved him a bloody nose. You're going to need your nose for the Free Skate." And I reached out to grab said nose, but he slapped my hand away. I just grinned.

Outside his room next door, Yurio paused in the door. "Victor..."

"Hmm?"

"Spasiba."

I smiled. "What for?"

He pushed the door open and looked back at me reluctantly. "For everything. Ka... Yuri too. Subete arigatō." And, before I could reply, he went into his room and shut the door.

I got ready for bed and slotted myself against Yuri's back, spooning him. He sighed in his sleep, slept on. _You missed it, moya lyubov'_ , I thought, and joined him in the land of nod.

* * *

* * *

ON THE ICE, REPRESENTING RUSSIA...

YURI PLISETSKI!!!

* * *

**I'm going to make some tea. You alright, my love?**

**... Hmm. It's... difficult, remembering.**

**I know. I'm proud of you.**

**Kimi mo, anata.**

**He was so good!**

**I know, right!**

**I couldn't believe it when he did as he was told...**

**Hmm, watashi mo! Did... did we do right, telling Yurio to do triples?**

**Yuri, he got 46.1 on his PCS. I think we did fine!**

**Seung-Gil took the top score...**

**Because he was doing quads. It still cost him his PCS. He might as well have skated with a calculator.**

**I felt a bit bad for him...**

**Seung-Gil?**

**Hmm. I remember him in Rostelecom, after his Free Skate...**

**Pity then.**

**?**

**He hadn't learnt anything from that, had he?**

**Hmm. Ne, Victor... You were right.**

**Well yes, what about this time?**

**Baka. About downgrading jumps.**

**... Oh, you mean when _you_ competed at the CSK? Meh... if you had done that, I'm not sure what would have been the outcome; you were a bit all over the place then.**

**... Hai. I know.**

**With Yurio though it paid off. For his SP anyway. For his Free... I don't think anything could have helped further.**

**... Hmm. Wakatta.**

**Yuri, don't look like that.**

**Heh? Like... what?**

**Like you think you were a bad coach. _You were never a bad coach._**

**...**

**Okay, let's put it another way. Do you think _Yakov_ could have done a better job, considering that Yurio was still not 100%, and he'd given up on his skating for the year?**

**... I...**

_**Absolutely no one else could have gotten Yurio back on to the ice.** _

**... Victor...**

_**And absolutely no one else could have gotten Yurio to**_ **SMILE _on the ice._**

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took bit longer than usual, folks, to get this up...
> 
> Let me just put this out here:
> 
> I have known that I have clinical depression since I was twenty, but I almost certainly have had it for all of my life. I was a very morbid child, and didn't know why. A couple of years ago circumstances with my job, which I was one of the best at, culminated in the police having to come to my house to make sure I didn't do something very stupid, and taking me to hospital, where I was diagnosed with anxiety. On top of that, I've had PTSD since I was twenty two.
> 
> I turn thirty one this year. I live medication free, I work full-time, I write. I have travelled the world twice, alone, independent. I have been promoted, held positions of responsibility, enjoyed success at projects that no one expected could be successful. I love who I am, what I have accomplished with my life, and where I intend to go. There are compromises - I have always been single, and probably will always be, unless my own Victor finally gets here, and I have had to move cities, even countries to get as far away from malignancies as I could. I have three mental health issues that I need to live with every single day of my life, and they can all fuck off if they want me to stop being awesome.
> 
> I have slapped myself in the mirror plenty of times before, and will plenty of times in the future. I owe myself a small one right now, in fact (my room's a tip, there's paper EVERYWHERE). My own tune is Hold Your Colour, by Pendulum. I walk instead of dance. I remember those who love me, who are so certain that I am destined for something better.
> 
> So let's keep going.


	12. Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter became so long, it's now two...

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 9

_Forward_

* * *

FIRST PLACE, AND THE WINNER OF THE GOLD MEDAL, FROM -

* * *

* * *

I ended up giving Yurio his phone back. 

> GEORGI  
>  Удачи!!!
> 
> SALA  
>  I saw your SP on TV! You were so good! Buona fortuna!!! Emil says Hodně štěstí! xxx
> 
> GUANG HONG  
>  Watching online right now! Can't wait! Zhù nǐ hǎo!!! Really REALLY HOPE we get to skate together at the Final!!!
> 
> MARI-CHAN  
>  DAVAI DAVAI!!! Katsudon waits for you!!! xx
> 
> YUUKO-CHAN  
>  GOOD LUCK FOR THE FREE SKATE! YOU'RE GOING TO BE SO AWESOME! THANK YOU FOR GETTING THE KIDS VIP PASSES!!! XX

(I had never seen them so quiet... when we took them to the Final, they were anything but. But in Hiroshima, the Nishigori triplets behaved themselves.

Mostly.)

> HIROKO  
>  ヒロコ、土屋、ソバチンからの幸運
> 
> MICHELE  
>  Good luck
> 
> BABA  
>  Watching from the stands! GOOD LUCK!!! Guess who's here too!!! xxx
> 
> OTABEK  
>  Look up.

I'm not sure I'll ever be so glad to see the stony-faced Kazakhstani. Yurio had no idea he was going to be there.

"Just for me," Mila later winked at me. Girl, please. You'd had one coffee and some naughtiness in Mississauga. Never underestimate bromance.

You can picture it, right? The look on Yurio's face as he did as instructed and saw his friend watching. I don't think I've ever seen him look so touched.

When Yurio performed his Free Skate for the first time, he was not alone; a lot of people were holding him upright. When the euphonium of Kumiko Oumae rang out across the stadium, playing the opening chords, everyone's heads raised, everyone sat up. All eyes were on Yuri Plisetski, representing Russia.

It wasn't perfect. He nearly fell on the quad toe in his combination, making his triple that followed a double instead, and a messy one at that. He touched down on his triple axel. His leap into a flying spin was awkward and he had to compensate for the lack of right momentum. But he had begun. It could only get better, I whispered to Yuri later.

(I was wrong.)

This next, because Yuri was concentrating on Yurio, he couldn't appreciate as fully as he really, really wanted to. So I did in his stead:

Minami had found himself in second place behind Seung-Gil, by barely half a point. He'd learnt from his mistakes from Skate America and had worked hard on correcting them. His  _Solo Dance_ at the NHK was the first where he had no technical deductions; he landed his quadruple salchow with grace, leapt higher and farther than he realised for his triple axel and compensated the distance effortlessly, like he'd intended it all along. He screamed with triumph at its conclusion, had stared when his scores came in, rocketing him to the top of the scoreboard, until Seung-Gil nudged him just out.

Yurio grinned when he watched Minami perform, when he saw the scores. Then he frowned; he had to work harder now.

His Free Program at the NHK was full of determination, full of hunger, to redeem himself, for approval, for... victory. Yuri allowed it. It cost Yurio his PCS though; the wrong emotions for the program, but if that was what was needed to complete, Yuri would take it.

It got him Silver.

Minami however... earned himself a Personal Best with  _Easy Love_ , a place amongst the highest ever scores, and the top of the podium, his first Gold in the Grand Prix series, and a solid chance of qualifying for the Final. He cried. A lot. With happiness, but the Makkachin box was empty by the end of the day.

Yurio meanwhile... stared down at his silver medal in his hand, hanging round his neck, then glanced up at his burgeoning friend. He smiled. It felt right to him, I think.

If Yuri was disappointed, he has never allowed himself to admit it. Later I played those songs, Minami's pieces, and asked Yuri what first came to his mind. His skating, was his first answer. Right, but what do you think of next?

Listening to them on repeat, on the train to Hakata, to help Minami train, looking forward to skating with him.

Yuri... we might be playing favourites, but you won Gold and Silver at the NHK that year. Be proud. I am.  _Of all of you_.

* * *

* * *

I...

After the podium, Minami-kun skated up to me, still tearful. He...

 _He thanked me_. For  _everything_. For training him, for helping him with  _Solo Dance_ and  _Easy Love_. For inspiring him to skate competitively at all. For making his dreams come true.

Mi-... Kenjirou-kun. That was all you.

I'm sorry, Yurio... demo...

_They were worlds apart._

Kenjirou-kun had many advantages; he already had a bronze medal, and therefore impetus. He was on home ground, with the audience  _screaming_ his name. He was enthusiastic, and excited, and eager to skate. His skating was peaking, he was the rightful Ace of Japan.  _He deserved his Gold Medal_.

Yurio however...

It's hard, being objective. Sometimes I would catch myself wishing I could just be a spectator again, but then I'd shake my head at my betrayal. I was his coach; I had to watch, and figure out what he needed to improve, what had worked, what to encourage and discourage, how to feedback effectively. I had to analyse every second, every movement. But in the end, I was glad for the disconnect... because otherwise my heart would have broken for him.

His first competitive  _Who You Really Are_ netted him just over a hundred points, only a few behind Kenjirou-kun and Seung-Gil. Just as Victor and I hoped, he lost himself in the feeling that the piece evokes. We were all both behind and in front of him; the triplets were cheering louder than anyone, so distracted by the live event they abandoned the camcorder, the phone and the camera, and Victor and I kept our eyes on him. When we entered the rink, we did so together, lined up, carefully, so that we would never know which of us was being cheered for the loudest; Russia's Living Legend, the Ice Tiger, or... well, me, the Japanese coach, I guess.

Telling Yurio to do triples... was a gamble, but one that had its pay offs. We'll never know if he would have missed quads out of nerves in Hiroshima - he'd been touching down and flupping with increasing frequency over the last month during training - but it guaranteed that he didn't fall during his SP, and scored him one of his highest PCS's since he broke the World Record with  _Agape_. The Short Program, in other words, was safe.

(I still can't get over the fact that he didn't argue back when I told him to downgrade...)

The Free Program though...

Again, Kenjirou-kun's skating was excellent, faultless. He'd been nervous before he went on, the second last to skate, having seen everyone else try to  _beat_ him and Seung-Gil. He'd cheered like a maniac with the triplets, next to Victor and I, for Yurio, even though he should have been gearing up. Then  _Easy Love_ started to play, and off he went, forgetting the rest of us, the rest of everything, exactly as he needed to. Yurio however... did the exact opposite.

He woke up  _angry_. I don't know how he got himself into such a mental state where he seemed to resent everything, was silently fuming, but I was so relieved when Victor put his hand on my shoulder and handed Yurio his phone, just before he was meant to start. I could see it was filling up with good luck messages, and watched as Yurio frowned and looked up, searching...

I hugged Otabek at the first opportunity to thank him. He looked a little shocked - I didn't realise he was shorter than me, I always imagined him to be taller - but as a man of few words and few expressions, his presence said everything.

Yurio, if you're reading... we were all there for you. And always will be.

The realisation that his friends had gathered - his Baba, despite competing herself, sat next to Otabek - and were rooting for him, moved Yurio to a slightly better place in his head. Instead, he wanted to verify our support of him.  _Look at me_ , his skating said.  _I'm not a lost cause_ , his skating lied.

But I had no time, after seeing Otabek in the audience, to remind Yurio of what his Free Program was really about.

Then again... only  _Yurio_ knows what his Free Program was really about. I don't think he had fully figured it out yet either. So this was the closest approximation.

Seung-Gil suffered the same fate as I did at the Cup of China, and lost his nerve completely from coming out in front; he missed the podium all together, and his chance for the Final.

In Hiroshima, Yurio skated for his friends. I can't complain. It got him a Silver medal against a skater who deserved to beat him. I can't complain about that either. Except...

I so wish he had won Gold... Not to kiss it, that's Victor's thing. But I wanted to see Yurio's expression when he did.

Hehe. Kenjirou-kun really did get emotional about it. Bless... baka ga. I... I'm so proud of you, Kenjirou-kun. I'm sorry it took so long to really feel that.

And I'm sorry that we ruined your Banquet...

* * *

* * *

We didn't  _ruin_ it. We made it EPIC.

"Ugh, this is  _boring_ ," Mila whispered to me. I chuckled. Yep. "Please take Yuri out suit-shopping."

Oh, I've tried... oh. She meant Yurio.

She looked at Otabek across the room; her date. He nodded. A signal? Not the one that leapt to my mind. "Victor. Find the Yuri's. Meet us outside in fifteen. Bring Yuri's gold-winning purple-haired boy.  _Let's get out of here_."

The best thing about being a coach (after a fashion): I don't have a coach of my own to tell me to behave myself at a post-event banquet.

The difficult bit was trying to extract Yuri from Morooka without giving the game away. Yurio had already been grabbed by Otabek. The easy bit was getting Minami to come. Mostly because I didn't really ask; I just pointed at him and beckoned for him to follow.

He geeked out in the taxi. "OhmygodI'mwithMilaBabichevaandOtabekAltinandYuri-kunandYurio-kunandVictorNikiforov... ohmygodohmygodohmygod..." He squeaked when Mila complimented his choice of music, for pulling off house music on the ice.

"Oi, Baba, where the hell are you dragging us to?" Yurio glared over the back of his seat at her. He used slightly more colourful language than that, but I shan't be repeating it. She just grinned and shrugged. Otabek frowned and, speaking so low I'm amazed she heard, sitting right next to him in the back, repeated the question with less profanity.

She shrugged again, this time genuinely. "I just asked the driver to take us somewhere we can party. I'm assuming he understood, because he just nodded."

Yuri pulled a face and leant forward and spoke to the driver. I would have listened, but Yurio was telling Mila she was an idiot so loudly I couldn't concentrate. Then Yuri sat back in his seat, trying not to giggle. "He understood just fine."

The driver - a man who was a big toothless grin and a lot of black hair and a belly under his shirt - deposited us in Nakarekawa district, and as Yuri paid him, we all heard it. One of the bars was playing Yurio's Free Program. The original, I mean. We all turned, following our ears, and found it.

SAYO BAR. You might have seen the photos we took that night... if not...

Firstly, think  _big_. Secondly, think of Christophe; there was a pole, he was gutted to hear that he'd missed out. Thirdly, think of Yuri in his standard black suit and white button-up shirt and - thank God - a navy tie, not that infernal thing that I may have hidden in the house (in one of Sobachin's baskets. I have yet to see it again - no, don't get up and look for it!), and think of Yurio in a suit that was still too big for him. Think of Mila revealing that she was wearing  _shorts_ under her dress so she could dance as she saw fit. Think of Otabek looked very handsome in a charcoal shirt (and of Mila's ballet flats, so that she wasn't taller than him). Think of Minami's  _face_...

We missed Yurio's song, only just - the bouncer recognised us (we were the only natural blonds in the place...) and ushered us straight in - and Mila marched us to the bar, and -

For  _some_ of us, the rest gets a bit hazy... These are the highlights:

  * Mila ordered champagne, foregoed the glasses, and just passed round the bottle. Yuri declined; she ignored him, and thrust the bottle into his hands, and seized it back when he pretended to chug some of it. He said it tasted of her strawberry lip gloss.
  * Yurio yelling "OI BABA! GET A ROOM!" when she and Otabek started making out. So Yuri wasn't the only one who got to taste strawberry...
  * Minami trying to say sorry for winning Gold to Yurio. Who just looked at him like he was a complete idiot, flat out ignored him, and shouted to Yuri. "KATSUDON! REMATCH!"
  * "Eh?"



* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't need to explain who the namesake of the bar is... right?


	13. Dance with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your obligatory smut warning.
> 
> Whatever you dance to... stick it on, and dance with me!

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

 CHAPTER 10

_Dance with me_

* * *

* * *

I wasn't anywhere near drunk enough for that...

Oh well! I -

* * *

**Yuri?**

**... Hai?**

**Where _did_ you learn to... dance  _like that_?**

**... Umm...**

**I know you didn't get it from Minako. Hmm... actually...**

**No! I took classes in Detroit.**

**... Why?**

**... What do you mean, 'why'?**

**Yuri, I refuse to believe you _volunteered_  for pole dancing classes.**

**... Celestino made me.**

**There we go.**

**It...**

**Hmm?**

**... was fun...**

**... Why are you so embarrassed?!**

**...**

**Baka ga. Remind me, why am I here?**

**Eh?**

**How did we meet?**

**Oh... heh-heh...**

* * *

Where was I, before I was interrupted...?

Need to think now... It... well, I was never one for parties when I was younger. That makes me sound old... Phichit dragged me to some frat parties when we were at university, and I always snuck out of them - it was all a bit  _much_ \- so...

Victor, don't grin at me like that! I know what's going through your head! Yes, Yurio should have been calling  _me_  an 'old geezer'... ugh...

Still. I grew up dancing. Oto-san joked, many times, that I danced before I walked, definitely danced before I talked. Apparently I used to do a toddling boogie when Oka-san's favourite soap opera theme tunes came on, was happiest when the radio was on. Mari-neechan said it was hilarious; if she turned off the music I cried. Any music, by the way. Once there was a power cut, and she sang for me to distract me from the storm, so I could dance; I was still only a baby then, so I just kicked my legs about. I don't remember that, and she says she doesn't either, but our parents do. When Minako-sensei retired from the stage and returned to her hometown to become an instructor, I was one of her first students.

I... I had a bit of a crush on her. I was only a pre-schooler, but she was - and still is - a beautiful woman, and I was happy to do anything that made her smile, just as I did with Yuuko-chan. Then Yuuko-chan introduced me to Victor on the TV at Ice Castle Hasetsu, and the rest is history.

So... why is everyone always surprised that I can dance? I was glad Otabek was there, when he could pry himself from Mila's tongue; he got it. Ballet is not the be all and end all. When Celestino scouted me, the first thing he said was that I had too much ballet; if I wanted to compete at the highest of levels, I needed to expand my horizons. So I took ballroom classes. And interpretive. Break-dancing. Pole. If the university offered a class in it, I took it.

It's  _dancing_.  _I loved every minute of it_.

So when Yurio smirked at me across the dance floor, shouting his nickname for me so loudly everyone stopped to stare, could  _hear_  over the bass, I... I smirked back.

 _Game on, boy_. Ice Tiger, you are going  _down._ JAPAN'S ACE IS IN THE HOOOOOOOUSE!!!

(Ohmygodthatwassoembarrassing...)

* * *

  
  


* * *

OH MY GOD. IT WAS SO GOOD...

 _That's my husband_... hell yeah, I'm a lucky son of a bitch!

Yuri won. (I may be biased... but he still won.) Even though Otabek joined in - he can move as well, hoo! - and Minami was doing a guitar riff with the champagne bottle.

What else happened that night?

Ooh, Mila tried to show off her lifts again. Yurio didn't get away in time. Otabek looked a little alarmed, and intriguingly impressed. Minami had an absolute blast. Mila took one look at me and decided not to. And Yuri ran away.

Someone ordered shots... it all went a little bit downhill after that. Yurio stole Yuri's out of his hand when he saw that Yuri was just going to 'accidently' pour it on the floor. Minami couldn't walk in anything resembling a straight line after that. And Mila shot herself in the foot.

"It's just a bit of fun," she said, when I asked her at the bar how things were going with Otabek, expecting a positive answer. "It's just sex, Victor. We can't all be like you and Yuri."

He heard everything. He'd literally just come up behind her to order a drink too, and I saw the look on his face. Maybe it was all the drinks they'd had beforehand, or just... because... but Otabek said nothing, didn't even react when Mila, noticing the shock on my face, turned and saw him herself. He just ordered us all our drinks normally, as though nothing had happened. She looked horrified.

I turned away from them, pensive. I hadn't drunk that much, had been artfully dodging all the shots like Yuri. Mila, you fool. The lie was obvious even as you said it, let alone after.

Across, my husband was dancing with Minami and Yurio. Just dancing, not competing, or trying to one up each other. Well, Yurio was showing off some moves, and Minami was cheering him on. Yuri...

Always knows when I've got my eyes on him. He looked up, saw me at the bar. Smiled. The DJ put a new track on, and we both looked up to listen...

 _I may be selfish but I'll take your pain_  
_When you get weak I'll make you strong again_  
_When all is lost, I will comfort you, mmh mmh_

Yuri...  _smirked_ , as his eyes found mine again.  _You can't look away, can you?_  No, no I couldn't.

His back straightened, and he spun, just for me...

 _So give me your love, I need it_  
_Give me your heart, I'm bleeding_  
_Give me your love, I need it, oh oh yeah, oh yeah..._

Reader... I hope you know what this feels like. To have the sexiest creature in a club or a bar dance for you, for only you. To watch their neck tilt so you can drag your eyes down the perfect line of their jaw. To see the sheen in their hair under the lights, slicked back, and the glint in their eyes that run from you so you'll follow. To have them spin so they can tease you with the magnificence of their ass...

 _I will be there every lonely night_  
_When you wake up, I'll be by your side_  
_I will always be there for you, mmm, mmm, oh yeah_

I could see, at the periphery of my vision, everyone noticing. And staring. For there I was, an obvious foreigner, with my hair and eyes and height, and this Japanese boy that they hadn't noticed until now. How dare he, I wondered if they thought that. How dare he, this country boy who hadn't highlighted his hair or cared too much about what he was wearing, how dare he try to seduce  _me_...

_Why don't you give me your love?_

Yuri was mouthing to the words - he might have been singing out loud, I couldn't hear - and, to my amusement, Yurio and Minami hadn't even noticed that their coach wasn't paying the slightest attention to them.

Yuri kicked his chin up, daringly, demanding a response. I pushed off from the bar.

 _You know all the other men baby_  
_They won't treat you like I could_  
_Stop your searching around_  
_I can't do this anymore_

I shrugged on the last line, teasingly, right in his face. He raised an eyebrow, seized my tie, and -

 _So give me your love, I need it_  
_Give me your all, I'm bleeding_  
_Give me your love, I need it_  
_Oh oh yeah_

 _Yuri..._  when was the last time we kissed like that?

"Let's go."

* * *

  


* * *

It had been easy leaving the hotel. Mila had already arranged for the minivan to take us into the city, and no one stopped us from leaving. Not even when we waited for the driver to bring the seven-seater around; not even when Mila started fussing over us - "good, you're wearing contacts, sort your hair out... Otabek, lose the tie... Victor, you look far too formal, get rid of one of the three piece... Yura, Kenjirou... well, there's no saving that, let's get going" - and then in seemingly no time at all we were in SAYO'S BAR.

Getting back however took  _forever_...

At first, Victor and I left, and our faces lit up when we saw the driver who had brought us in - Shaq, I think he said his name was - was waiting exactly where he had dropped us off, and waved his cigarette at us. Then it got complicated.

"The big scary Russian says I have to bring back the girl," he told me, laughing. "She still here, or has she gone back with the boyfriend already?' Last I saw, she was grinding on the dance floor with Otabek... "He was pretty strict about it."

Yakov, I guess. I had to translate to Victor - "his accent's really thick, I've no idea what he just said!" - and he went back in to fetch everyone. It was late anyway. Eventually they all came out, thank God, because Shaq knew who I was and was telling me all about how his daughter was a big fan of mine and it was really embarrassing.

"I'm hungry," Yurio snapped. So was I, but not that kind...

"Want to get some food first? There's a okonomiyaki stall," Shaq said.

As Minami looked around excitedly, Yurio went, "Huh?" And Shaq pointed with his cigarette. He wasn't in any rush.

 _I was._ "Yuri? Want some too?" Victor asked. I stared at him.  _No_. Victor's eyes widened and he marched everyone over to the stall, got the food, and practically manhandled everyone back into the minivan.

Shaq laughed. "In a rush to get back?"  _Yes_. "Ah, the honeymoon stage." I'm so glad he didn't mind that everyone was eating in his van, and that he said that last in Japanese. But it was nearly three o'clock in the morning, and I'd seen him smoke almost three cigarettes in the time I'd been waiting to get going.

Victor threaded his fingers through mine, smirking at my impatience wafting out of me. We made an odd bunch in the van; Kenjirou-kun was nearly falling asleep over his okonomiyaki in the front, and Yurio was wolfing his down as fast as he could without burning his mouth. Behind us, Otabek and Mila was quiet, too quiet. And there I was in the middle trying not to jump my husband already.

We all got the same elevator. Because we were all on the same floor. At least one of Mila and Otabek were in a room in the opposite direction to us, so I have no idea what happened that night with them. Minami was a little further down the hall; he was hiccoughing by then, I suspect he was probably sick when he got in. And Yurio of course was next door...

I so wanted to slam the door when we got in, but the god-damned soft closer... I made sure it was shut, turned, and my husband slammed me against it.

* * *

* * *

I was hungry too.

Yuri once used to think that he was the only one who could satisfy me. So to speak... even though we're married, even though we have a home together and our little pocket of domestic bliss, I'll never have enough of you.

His kiss on the dance floor had been like we used to; messy, and starving. Against our hotel room door, we kissed like that again, moaning loudly because we felt complete. I nearly lost my footing when Yuri pushed us back, into the room towards the bed, the pair of us stripping fast. It wasn't going to be leisurely like at home, but fast. After being seduced by his dancing, I didn't mind.

He shoved me back on to the bed, and for a second I watched as he yanked his shoes off, his socks, before doing the same. "Keep your tie on," he  _purred_. Christ... I was already hard.

He kept his on too, and I used it to pull him to me on the bed, tight in my fist as I flipped us around, pushing him into the bed with my body. He was hard too, wrapped his legs around my hips, digging his fingernails into my back as I ground against him.

I hovered above him, to calm down just a bit. It didn't work; my husband was spread beneath me, his hands running over my abs, with that tie still around his neck, so loose it had almost come undone. I grinned, tightened it a bit. "I like this tie..." I murmured to him.

Yuri tried not to laugh. "Yes, I imagine you do... it's one of yours." ... Oh yeah. He grinned and pulled me back down to him by mine, digging the soles of his feet into the back of my thighs, and we both moaned into our kiss. "V-Victor... I want to go on top..."

If you had asked for the moon at that moment I would have plucked it out of the sky for you. He climbed on top of me, straddled me, pulled my tie again so that I sat up with him, reaching up to kiss him, even as I bit my own lip as he moved. I wasn't going to last... "Yuri..."

He nodded, and let me lie back so I could stretch towards the bedside table, my arms just long enough to reach the bag sat on top. Damn it, somewhere amongst the band-aids, lip balm, pain meds was - ah-ha! Yuri pulled me back up to him by my tie again once I had the lube in my hand, sat up on his knees so I could reach around him, and I kissed his chest, his nipples as he tilted his head back and moaned as I scissored my fingers inside of him, his fingers tightening in my hair. Then he was lowering himself on to me...  _oh god_...

I can't get enough of Yuri's face when we're like this. There's no hiding his emotions with his face anyway, but  _pleasure_... pleasure is very distinctive. His big brown eyes go  _enormous_ , and his mouth falls open to gasp. Then those same eyes will shut, hiding behind his long eyelashes, screwing up as his body tightens, too much. He'll stare at me, in awe, flushed, vulnerable. And desperation, as the end teases, out of reach yet. I love it when he tilts his head back to moan at the heavens, opening his pulse to me. I love the sound of my name, worshipping, begging. And the  _feel_ of him, of the hard muscles under his smooth skin, of his soft, demanding lips, of the hot, tight depths of him as he ground himself over me...  _I'll never have enough of this, of you, Yuri_...

"Are you close?" He whispered, kissing me, nearly missing, reading my face just as much as I read his. I couldn't do anything but nod, afraid that if I said anything I'd come right there. He reached for my hand at his waist, moved it between us, and moaned loudly as I stroked him between our bodies. There was that desperation, wanting to catch up with me, to come with me. Oh God, I couldn't look anymore, pressed my forehead against his chest, just under his chin, moaned his name because I couldn't help it anymore... I felt  _so good_... he... _der'mo_...

Lightning struck through my body, just as Yuri gritted out my name as his body jerked, pulling at my tie so I wouldn't fall, and I felt him come on my stomach, his body curling, contracting toward me, even as my back arched. His head fell on to my shoulder and he gasped for breath, and slowly my awareness of the room around us began to reset. I was exhausted...

I fumbled for his tie between our torsos and laid back down, taking him with me. I fell out of him, limp, and he naturally veered to my side, his head still on my shoulder, his arm over me, his leg still over me. I stared unseeing at the ceiling, my world containing nothing but him, and my own spent body. We lay there, trying to breath normally again. "Victor..."

I let my head fall towards him, and smiled at the glorious sight of Yuri,  _satisfied_. I kissed him with the little remaining energy I had left, for I always have energy to kiss him. "That... was amazing..." He smiled against my lips. "When... when was the last time we did that?  _Like_  that?" I clarified.

Yuri chuckled, still breathing hard. "When you were competing... after the Worlds, I think..."

I frowned. Was it really that long? It wasn't even really that long. "Not even in Koh Ai...?"

Yuri shook his head just enough. "No... No urgency, then..." His eyes fluttered closed. "What time is it?"

I glanced over his head at the clock on the bedside, and groaned. "Nearly half four."

He groaned too. "We have to check out tomorrow -  _today_.  _This morning_."

I smiled. "I'll set an alarm." My phone was in my trouser pocket. On the floor somewhere. Yuri's grip on me tightened, reluctant to let me go just yet. I chuckled at him. "Hang on, be right back. We're on top of the covers anyway, I'm getting cold."

I extracted myself from him, and as he slid under the duvet I hunted for a phone, any phone, to set an alarm. I found his first; we both know each other's passwords, and we have each other's fingerprints saved. There's nothing on my phone I wouldn't show him, nothing on his he wouldn't show me. It just comes in handy, like right then. I found mine anyway, stuck them both on charge, and got back into bed, and happily accepted him back to exactly where he was before. I stroked his hair, my favourite past time. It's so thick and dark and soft, so distinctly Japanese and him. No one before him ever looked like him, could compare to him.

I drifted... and then the alarm was going off. Ugh...

I laughed when I realised we'd both forgotten to take our ties off. I sent Yuri into the shower first so I could pack, fast, and just as he came out, looking for clean clothes, I remembered our charge. "Is Yurio up, do you think?"

Yuri blinked at me. He'd forgotten too. Oops.

We were all _so_ hungover on the bullet train back to Fukuoka...

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the NHK Trophy... next event coming up...
> 
> Ooh, and lyrics are from Sigala's Give Me Your Love.
> 
> And as for Shaq... in 2015, I had the excellent fortune of arriving at my hostel in Kanazawa just in time to celebrate the owner/manager's birthday, and was given a lot of strawberries and cream cake (oh my god... the cake in Japan...), sake, and champagne. One of the best photos I ever took in Japan was at Shaq's hostel in Kanazawa. So, even though I'm one of thousands of people who passed through, and was an awkward guest anyway, he always stuck in my mind. Who else should I name a good-humoured taxi driver after? :-P


	14. Interlude - St Petersburg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid the last chapter was very deliberate... this was hard to write.

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

INTERLUDE

April

St Petersburg

* * *

Yuri will never put any of this on paper, or type it, himself. But of these days... he has talked to me about it. He knows everything that follows. Neither of us enjoy looking back on them, and it was difficult telling Heradi about them for the interview we did. Even then, we... were selective.

My dreams are selective too. But they're cruel about it.

* * *

* * *

I hate hospitals.

That's not true... actually. Let's be more specific; I hate how they make me feel, being in them. Otherwise,  _I am in awe of them._

I am just a figure skater. Yes, I am one of the greatest, yes, I have World Record scores, yes, I have so many gold medals and trophies I have lost count of them, can choose which of them mean the most to me. (Easy. The ones I won with him.) For some, this is inspiring; my career has inspired many, including my current peers. It inspired  _him_. I make a decent living out of it, through prize money, government funding, and some extremely lucrative sponsorships. I bought my apartment by spending a day wearing sports gear with a particular logo and posed for a photographer. I never even wore any of it again, was just given more to actually wear rink-side.

I am not ungrateful, I am not complaining. I grew up wanting this, and through my hard work and a considerable,  _considerable_  amount of  _luck_ , I get to follow my passion full time. It wouldn't have taken much for none of this to have happened, and if it hadn't I would never have met  _him_. If nothing else, for Yuri, it was all worth it. All through those years, I had never imagined that I would encounter something that I would be more passionate about, that I would care more for, that I would go to even greater lengths for, than skating. My luck should have run out long ago; it wasn't fair that it finally had, like this.

Yuri was sleeping. A drip led out of his arm. A monitor beeped; it was oddly soothing, because it was constant and steady. His mouth had fallen open, and I could hear how dry his throat was; there was water on the side ready for when he woke. He was lying between sheets that looked rough, washed a thousand times over; I had spoilt him with thread counts in my home, though I couldn't replicate the scent of Hiroko-okasan's soft laundry detergent. His foot was sticking out; no hiding the blisters and bruises from skates. They had a chance to heal now; he wouldn't be wearing skates for a while.

The doctor had told me that Yuri would be groggy, that he would probably feel sick from the anaesthetic. I remembered breaking my arm once, when I was around Yurio's age. After the surgery, I puked up water, couldn't hold anything down, except, of all things, the hospital food which tasted bland and nutrition-less. What on earth do they put in our bodies that we react to so badly after? I'm only curious... you see, it is the people who work here that I admire. They pick us all up at our worst, do their best to fix us so we can get back to our lives, and they do it again and again. I wish they had inspired me when I was young, that I could have been one of them, so I could have done something more contributive. Then maybe I would have know what to do.

I was staring out of the window, with a view of a wall and some drainpipes, but I didn't really see it. I... I could see the ninja mascots of Ice Castle. We had missed sakura season. My bathtub was only just big enough for the pair of us, and was never as steamy as the onsen. There was something missing from the taste when Yuri made Japanese food for us. Why had I brought Yuri away from that?

I was staring out of the window, standing to ease out the ache in my back from sleeping in a chair at his side overnight, because it was too much to look at Yuri as I remembered.

After he won the Japanese Nationals, giving me his gold medal to kiss as an early Christmas present, we saw in my twenty-eighth birthday and Christmas with his family. Hiroko-okasan made a feast for us; I have no idea what some of it was, but I'd never eaten anything better. For Christmas, I got Yuri a full set of winter accessories; a thick scarf, fleece-lined gloves, a hat. I didn't say they were for when he visited me in Russia... we hadn't talked yet about that. For my birthday, he gave me a photo album; he'd gotten  _everything_  that the triplets had taken during our training sessions at Ice Castle, and picked out his favourites. Given that it was  _for_  me, there were more of myself than was necessary, but they were his picks; the ones of himself that he had picked mostly had me in them too. Still so shy then. There were plenty of blank pages left; we have filled them up since.

That night in my bed, after we had given each other pleasure with our hands, biting down on our moans, I ran my fingers down from his temple to his lips, memorising. I had a ticket booked back to St Petersburg, one way, with Makkachin. I'd had to hunt for my apartment keys, nearly lost somewhere in one of my suitcases. I knew I had to start packing soon, but was procrastinating. I didn't want to leave him, but Yakov was expecting me back, expecting me to have a plan for the Russian Nationals in the new year. I was pushing that back too, admitting that I had nothing yet.

I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave. I didn't know how to make this work. I - "I wish you were coming with me..."

Yuri's eyes widened, and I realised I'd said it aloud. I... I hadn't meant to. It felt cruel, taunting him with something that didn't seem like a possibility. "Can I?"

My own eyes widened.  _What_ _?_ He too realised that he'd spoken aloud, and he shrank into himself. How do you do that, Yuri, suddenly become so much smaller? He tried to hide his face from me, but  _no you don't_ _, say that again_. "Yuri... did... do... Yuri, look at me." Please. Please don't whisper that, and run. He met my eyes, petrified. Oh Yuri... I'm so glad it's been so long since you were scared of me, of what I do to your lovely heart, of what you do to mine. "Say it again, lyubov'."

He began to frown, beginning to hope. My hand shook on his cheek. "C-Can I?" I gasped. Say it again, please. "Can... Can I come with you?"

My own stupidity dawned on me. I'd never once thought that he would want to, never thought to ask. I'd envisioned some tortuous long-distance relationship whilst I was competing for the Nationals and the Europeans, where we would spent a fortune and lose hours through the time zones on stolen weekends, of reunions at competitions, of Skyping a lot. I hadn't had the balls to ask what he wanted to do with  _us_  yet... afraid that he might tell me that it was better to end this again.

I'd had Yuri in my life just over a year. He'd burst into my world in Sochi, making real the blooming flower on the TV that had unexpectedly stormed through the qualifiers, and then vanished into the shadows, before reappearing in a text from Chris. I thought, because of our own decisions, and the fact that we hadn't learnt to talk to each other properly about the future yet, that a year was all I had. Even if it all ended, it wouldn't destroy me forever, but I'd never live like this again. I'm lucky, but I'm not that lucky.

When I went to Hasetsu, there was never really a 'worst that could happen'. If Yuri had rejected my offer, I would have just gotten back on the plane and gone back home. I would have been embarrassed, humiliated even, but I would have gotten over it, gone back to focusing on the season, wondering if I'd see him at the next Grand Prix. In all honesty, I probably wouldn't have ever seen him again, would have forgotten him in time. It would have been a fond memory, dancing at the Sochi Banquet, something to laugh over with Chris. There was no risk then, only the prospect of a temporary disappointment. Things would have continued, like normal. I would never have known the life and love I would have missed out on.

But he didn't put me back on the plane. Yuri was in my bed, naked, belly-to-belly, and asking aloud if... I was so hoping he meant what I thought he meant... if he could return the favour, and move for me.

I smiled, kissed him. "Put some clothes on. Let's go to the beach, and talk."

"Eh? Victor, it's nearly midnight -"

"Come on!"

So we talked. About what he really meant by coming with me - for a bit, for a while? To train? To live with me? Had he really thought this through? No, he hadn't, but... well, neither had I, when I left. But I didn't want to lose him, and he didn't want to lose me, and these were the only things we were certain about. That was the beginning, the foundation. Everything else, we worked out from there. A few days later, I got my flight, and a few days after that, I picked him up from Pulkovo with Yurio and Makkachin. My Christmas presents came in handy, just as I had hoped, though I had never really thought he'd need more than the one set. He made me laugh so much when we got outside the airport and the cold air hit his cheeks, his bare ankles. That night he pushed aside his jet-lag, and I taught him how to top me, moaning his name loudly. It had only been a few months, but we'd broken some of the slats under the mattress... Picture Yuri pulling an embarrassed face. 'Ē to...'

The Russian Nationals came and went. Yuri started listening to Russian language podcasts as he trained in the gym, practised on the ice. Yakov glared at me when I came clean about the fact that, after Yuri told me he would keep going after Barcelona, I had nothing. No ideas, absolutely nada, and I didn't even feel bad about it. We pushed back my return, and after Yuri and I watched Yurio and Mila storm the Nationals, and welcomed Georgi back from therapy, I focused. Still, nothing... except...

"That for Katsudon?" Yurio called out, after I'd just run through something I'd been piecing together. I looked up, surprised. It was late in the rink, I thought I had the place to myself for a while. Surprised also for the question.

I grinned sheepishly at him. "Guess so." If he already thought that, just watching me, then yes, it was.

Yurio glared at me, like I was an idiot. "What about your own programs, dumbass? Aren't you meant to be making a comeback?"

He had me there, and was shocked when he realised he did. He pulled a face. "I thought love and all that yuckiness was meant to  _inspire_ , not..." And he waved a hand in my direction dismissively. I looked skyward, my patience at the edge. I turned away, meaning to concentrate.

He grunted, annoyed at being dismissed, and I listened to his footsteps as he went to leave. The door creaked open, but didn't close. "It's good." I turned back to him, shocked. It had been a very long time since he had complimented me. Yurio was serious as well, all sarcasm and aggression gone for once. "He'll win with what you've got." Then he grinned. "I'll have to up my game for the next season."

Yurio came with us to the Four Continents, ostensibly to watch Otabek. It was almost funny; he was disappointed that Yuri didn't beat his friend, and was trying to hide it. I'll never forget the look on Yurio's face at the Worlds not long after, as he watched Yuri skate  _Yuri On Ice_  from the kiss and cry, knowing he'd lost, knowing Yuri had kept his place at the top of the scoreboard. I didn't see it at the time; Mila showed me the footage after. At the time, my eyes were exclusively on my beloved, trying to see through my tears, refusing to miss how beautiful he was.

And there we were, in Yuri's hospital room, and I was the one looking away whilst Yurio sat in the chair at his side, the pair of us waiting for Yuri to wake up.

I'm not proud of it. I was so useless. I didn't know what to do. Yuri and I had been practicing alone, late in the evening when he fell - that cursed quad axel - and nearly everyone had gone. One of the staff members called for the ambulance. I followed Yuri into the ambulance because I couldn't let go of his hand, being shepherded by the crew. Yurio called me when we got to the hospital - he'd been on his way out when it happened, had been in the shower when the ambulance came - and I answered on autopilot. He came, and called Yakov. Who then just made things happen. Yakov sent me home with strict instructions - feed Makkachin, have a shower, eat, drink, bring spare clothes, come back - and sent Yurio home. In the morning, after a restless night of making sure Yuri got pain medication so he could go back to sleep, his surgery scheduled for the morning because it was too late, Yakov returned, made me get something to eat. He handled the reporters that were buzzing outside the hospital. He told me he'd sent Yurio to feed Makkachin, that he had released him from training that day too.

I apologised, and thanked him. Yakov just grunted. No apology or thanks were needed. I might have been Yuri's coach, but Katsuki had become one of his too.

When Yuri went into surgery, looking scared, his eyes never leaving mine until they rolled back mid-count, Yakov sent me home again, asked a nurse to find another way out that avoided the reporters. Makkachin whined at me when I got in, knowing that something was wrong, looking for Yuri. I burst into tears, just as I had done when Yurio made his remark about not abandoning Yuri, and cried into Makkachin's fur. At the edge of my mind, beyond conscious thought, was the knowledge that the end that we had postponed by moving to St Petersburg together was looming again.

I...  _kuso_...

* * *

**Victor...**

**Just... I need a minute...**

**... Here.**

**... Tea?**

**It'll take too long to make katsudon.**

**... pfft, baka. Arigatō. Alright...**

* * *

I... God, this is hard...

I snuck back in, after a couple of hours pacing, finding my own home too quiet. Yurio had just arrived too, took one look at me and ducked me under his Team Russia jacket without thinking, glaring at the photographers. He smelt of frying oil, an unpleasant smell when I had barely eaten, but I clung to him anyway, recognising that he was trying to protect me, and because he was so much shorter than me that I was having to stoop.

Yuri came out of surgery, looking fragile, his leg in its cast. I had to ignore it, just concentrate of his face. I stroked his hair, which had grown so long (not deliberately, he just hadn't made the move to find a barber, used to the man who had cut his and his father's hair since he was a child in Hasetsu, used to a barber that he had eventually found in Detroit). I kissed him gently, and whispered in his ear. "I'll be here when you wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

"Victor..." I turned away from the window at Yurio's warning. Yuri frowned, slowly opened his eyes.

"V... 'ic'or..."

I was by his side in a flash. "Hey, moya lyubov'." He squinted, frowned at the effort. As Yurio left, I presume to tell the nurse Yuri had woken up, and give us some privacy for a moment, I put his glasses on for him. Still Yuri squinted, blinking out sleep, and then smiled as best as he could, his eyes on my hair, recognising me from that. I kissed him again, didn't mind the delay as he pressed his lips against mine in return.

"Wha..." He frowned again, trying to swallow. I took the water that was waiting for him, held it steady as he sipped. He rested his cheek against my hand, struggling to keep his eyes open. "What... Kyō wa nan'yōbidesuka?" English was a bit beyond him then.

I smiled, despite being too tense to really be amused at his disorientation. "Kayōbidesu, Yuri-chan."

He smiled tenderly at his own name. Then it drained away as everything caught up with him. Slowly, I watched as his eyes slid from mine, away from me at all, and landed on his leg. And just stared.

And stared.

Oh Yuri... my heart broke for you. I tried so hard to not show it. Eventually he raised his eyes back to mine, his mouth trembling. "Victor...?" Then his face creased up, and he started to cry, like a terrified child. He fell against me as I enveloped him into me as best as I could, leaning over the edge of his hospital bed, trying not to move him too much, shushing him when he cried out when his leg moved. I wept too. I heard the door open and swallowed down a curse, wanting to shout to whoever it was to go away, to leave us alone, to leave Yuri alone. It wasn't necessary anyway; the door shut again and no one came in. Yuri never noticed, his grip weak and getting weaker from the effort.

We got a minute, before Yakov came back in, with the doctor and Yurio. Yurio's face was pinched, his eyes red. He said nothing.

The doctor's English wasn't good enough to explain, and it was obvious that Yuri was too exhausted, physically and emotionally to understand anyway. The doctor found himself addressing Yakov, the only one of us in fit state to pay attention properly. I was expending too much energy trying to keep it together for Yuri, trying to keep him together too. He was shivering, from not eating at all in a day, from the anaesthetic wearing off, from the shock, from the anxiety attack that I knew was coming as it would dawn on him that he wouldn't be able to skate for several months, that he was going to miss the beginning of the season, possibly... possibly longer. I managed to pay enough attention to understand that the surgery had gone well, that he would mend, that he would have to undergo intense physiotherapy if he wanted to return to his current peak condition and compete again.

It took a year for Yuri to try an axel jump. I knew early on that it would take a while to move past his fear of falling again.

Yakov left with the doctor. I'm so grateful to him... because of him, there was no trouble, I didn't need to think, to be organised. Yuri shifted in my arms slightly at the sight of Yurio, at the back of the room, looking like he was trying to decide whether or not to stay. "Yuri..." Yurio started. He hadn't heard his name come out of my Yuri's mouth in a while. "Why... why do you have flour on your nose?"

"Huh?" He lifted his hand to swipe it off. Agitated, because it had been there for hours and no one had said anything - I hadn't even noticed - he narrowed his eyes and looked away. "I..." He couldn't even say it, so he stepped forward and pulled a paper bag out of his backpack and thrust it in our direction. "Grandpa taught me how to make katsudon pirozhki."

Yuri and I have been asked a couple of times why, when Nicolai passed away, we went out of our way to help Yurio. We were his greatest competitors, not even sportsmanship can account for it in the public eye. Why would a thirty-year old and twenty-six year old gay couple effectively adopt an eighteen year old? Why did we take him away, why did we give him a second home for a while, why did we work so hard so he could carry on skating?

Easy. Because of this. Yurio, for all his brattishness, never stopped and questioned why he was in that hospital, why he fed my dog for me, why he took the brunt of the cameras. Why would we question it, when he was falling to pieces too? I was so angry with him when he tried to pull the same stunt a few months later; if he had also injured himself, Yuri and I would have been at his bedside in the hospital too. It might not have hurt as much as it did seeing Yuri, but it would still have hurt. It  _did_  hurt, when Nicolai died. Yuri and I have never stopped to question  _why_  we did anything for Yurio, only what.  _What_  could we have done better, not whether we should have done nothing at all.

So I was sorry when Yuri's face lit up and he bit into the pirozhki and threw it up a few minutes later into the cardboard bowl I held under his chin, rubbing his back. Yurio looked a little put out, worried that he messed up the recipe. I reached out. "May I have one? I'm  _starving_."

He blinked at me, a little surprised, and then scoffed and offered the bag. "Sure, why not."

 _Oh my god, it tasted so good_... The dough was a little lumpy, and the filling uneven, but in my mind nothing surpasses it.

* * *

* * *

In my dreams, this is never replayed properly. I'll get vivid images, hear particular sounds again, certain moments will play on a loop until I wake. Oddly, I always know that I'm dreaming if I get to the pirozhki. My mind won't replicate the taste, I guess because it knows the contradiction; Yurio has made better since, yet I still remember that batch as the best.

I always wake up with a stomach ache. I think it's partly out of remembrance - I barely ate anything except that pirozhki, so I was weak with hunger that I was ignoring - and mostly because my stomach will have been churning in my sleep. Sometimes I wake up hungry. Sometimes I don't.

The first thing I'll do, once I'm charge of my bearings and I know I'm in my home, far, far away from that hospital, I always turn to Yuri. Invariably, if we haven't slept in each other's arms, he sleeps facing towards me. He sleeps on my left, which means his left hand is always on the pillow next to him, his ring close to me. Immediately, I'll feel better.

I always wake up far too early from these dreams. If it's dawn, I'd probably get up, make some tea. Despite my instructions, Sobachin will always wake up then, yawn, and follow, even though I know her absence at our feet, and mine next to him, will wake Yuri. She always sits on the floor next to me, guarding me. Eventually Yuri will wake up, follow us too into the kitchen, bringing a blanket no matter the season, and cuddle me. He's always half-asleep when he does, so I get to smile or laugh at the dozy look on my boyfriend's, on my partner's, on my husband's face. Since we moved into our home, it happens less and less.

After I took Yuri home from the hospital, I woke almost every night. Makkachin would wake too and whine at me, worried. It was always dark, always far too early, so I'd curl a little closer to Yuri, as best as I could without waking him or knocking his leg, propped up on all the cushions in the house, and try to go back to sleep. One night, knowing I'd repeat it all again, I left Makkachin to guard Yuri in bed - the painkillers knocked him out early every night - and I went to the rink, thinking... maybe I could skate it out, put something to rest on the ice. But I got there, and everything got harder. My stomach twisted as I laced my skates up, and I couldn't even step out on to the ice, let alone skate.

It was... ten o'clock maybe? I thought everyone would have left by then. The rink staff had all left, or were performing final clean-up tasks. A night guard was already sat with his feet up in reception. So Yurio scared the living daylights out of me when he showed up. "Can't sleep either?" For once, no hostility. "Me too."

Unlike me, Yurio could step out on to the ice. But he didn't go far; he came up to the fence next to me. "How is he?"

I addressed the ice, because I wouldn't be able to keep it together otherwise, and I didn't want Yurio to be left in the position of trying to comfort me again. He was bad at it anyway, he had just patted my shoulder a lot. "Woozy. The painkillers are working." The ice was misty in the spotlights. I needed to say more. "Frustrated. He... He's mourning." It was the only way I could describe Yuri's angry and desperate tears when he tried to do something commonplace and found that he couldn't do the simplest things, practically bedridden at twenty-four. I had become his coach, his lover and his nurse... it could have been worse, but as much as he was trying not to, Yuri was finding it humiliating.

Yurio said nothing, but... he was listening. That was enough. "I can't skate," I confessed quietly after a long silence. "It... I thought it would help, but it feels like a betrayal. He can't."

I saw Yurio's fists clench on the barrier, and I looked up. He was staring at me intensely, trying to figure something out urgently. Finally he pushed out a long breath, and nodded to himself. "Stop me any time if you want. I'll get it."

And he thrust the remote for the speakers into my hand and skated away, to the centre, took up a position. I stared, wondering what on earth he meant... why was he...? I hit play.

Ketty's piano played out, and Yurio's face cleared as he slowly raised both hands up, over his head. My eyes widened...  _what the -_

My thumb shook over the pause button. I...  _why_  was he doing this, why was he skating  _Yuri On Ice_? Then he turned the first jump into a single-single, like tentative,  _safe_  hops on the ice. He... he wasn't trying to better Yuri, was being careful, considerate even, of what brought us both there, and my thumb moved away. What was he trying to say?

There are a thousand different things that Yurio was trying to say as he skated to his competitor's ultimate free program, the program that he hadn't been able to beat. It said enough that he had learnt it, that he understood what it was about, respected it even as he added his own layers of meaning. The same reverence that Yuri had once shown me by skating to  _Stay Close To Me_  was there too. Most of all, he told me how sorry he was. How sorry he was that he wouldn't get to skate with Yuri again this season, how sorry he was that this had happened, that I was stuck on solid ground by it. He said how much he wanted Yuri to be able to skate like this always, and as he couldn't, how he hoped that he would again one day. He said how much he would miss him, miss us.

He ended with his hand pointed to the windows, pointed to somewhere far away. And a part of me wasn't surprised when, after catching his breath, he continued to stare at the window, letting his hand drop. "Victor..."

I couldn't speak.

"Take Yuri home. He doesn't have anyone in St Petersburg, other than you." That wasn't true. Yurio, you know that wasn't true. "That's not enough. Take him back to Hasetsu, where he'll have everyone. He needs katsudon." He skated back, to come off the ice, having said what he needed to.

I seized him into a hug. This time, unlike in Barcelona, he hugged me back. Then he called me a weirdo, and I laughed. I still didn't let go of him, and he still didn't make me either.

* * *

**... I remember when you came home that night. I woke and was talking to Makkachin. "Let's go home," you said.**

**Yuri...**

**Hmm?... Victor! No, anata, don't cry...**

**... _Gomen'nasai_...**

**... _What for?_**

**...**

**... Because... because of needing Yakov, at the hospital?... Oh, Victor... Like I would have been any better, if it had been you... and _you did everything right_...  
** **Don't cry... I've got you... I've got you...**  
_I've got you._

* * *

* * *

 To be continued...


	15. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A balm for the Interlude...

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 11

Late November

_Comfort_

* * *

* * *

I sit in an awkward position, because despite Victor's intentions and to my surprise, this chair has never really proved big enough.

I remember him finding it online. He was sprawled on his front on the sofa in the living room under the skylight, and I was in the middle of Skyping Phichit about him coming to stay with us in Hasetsu for _Onsen On Ice_. All of a sudden I heard my name being shouted out and he rushed in, slamming his laptop on the desk, nearly dislodging mine so it ended up with a view of both of us and he  _bounced_ on the spot. " _I've found it_! Oh, hi, Phichit!"

"Eh?" He pointed at his screen excitedly. It was a papasan chair; even in the photo it looked enormous. "Ooh. It's... nice. For the living room? I thought we had enough -"

"No, for writing!" Writing? "My memoir, remember?" Of course I remembered, now I followed. He'd been scouring the net for 'the chair', the chair that he'd write in. Something extra comfortable, possibly with a lot of cushions. The chair that I was staring at pretty much was just a cushion all on its own. I thought of how it was probably ache after a while, but...

He was pulling The Face. You know which face. The one when the fully-grown, sexiest creature I've ever seen suddenly turns into a five year old.  _That_ face. I can't say 'no' to that face. I struggle to say 'no' to him anyway, but... it's so annoying, he doesn't even do it deliberately. He's just that goofy.

I could hear Phichit sniggering over Skype.

"Okay," I said, trying not to laugh too as he looked over the moon. "Where do you want to put it?"

He looked around us, and then pointed. "There!"

"Huh?" He was pointing at... well, exactly where it went. Across from my desk, perched underneath the shelf he put up that holds some framed photos - including the selfie that Phichit took of all of us at the Cup of China three years ago - just before the door. It takes up a silly amount of room, but ever since he put it there and started writing opposite me whilst I worked on various bits and pieces, it... I have felt less lonely in this space. I like having him there, even though we sit in silence most of the time. I used to get so distracted listening out for him in the house.

Still, at the time... "Victor... you'll just end up distracting me..."

See, this is why I can't say 'no' to The Face. When it drops like a stone, I feel like I have literally taken candy from a child. "Demo... I promise I won't!" He slumped, genuinely disheartened. "I've tried writing  _everywhere_. In the booth at Ice Castle, at Nagahama Ramen, in the onsen at your parents', in the kitchen, in the spare room... I can't concentrate properly. I get bored..."

I couldn't help it; I laughed. "You can always play with Sobachin if you're bored."

We both looked down at her. She looked up at us - she'd been snoozing at my feet, keeping my toes warm by lying on them - and wagged her tail at us. "Oh, _now_ you want to play?!" Victor teased, and bent down to rub her belly, crooning at her in Russian as she rolled over excitedly, trying to jump up to lick his face.

I definitely couldn't say no then. I finally remembered Phichit, who was watching the whole thing wide-eyed. "Victor-Nikiforov-really-is-a-total-goofball-and-he's-marrying-my-bestfriend-my-life-is-complete..."

He was going to order it there and then; I stopped him. I peered at the image, frowning. It came in black. Did it come in any other colours... ah! I toggled the options, and passed Victor's laptop back to him with a teasing grin. He narrowed his eyes at me, shaking his head slightly. I carried on grinning, tilting my head just so. He sighed, exasperated. "Fine... aqua blue it is..."

So now I find myself surrounded by the colour of his eyes. I need that now, because in this moment, we are a long way from that moment when we ordered this chair, and his eyes are red from tears.

Somehow I'm sitting both under and over him; my legs are over his lap, but I'm cradling him, his head tucked into my shoulder. He has his hand on my hip to hold me in place, and my t-shirt is damp from his tears. My mind is doing me a favour of sorts, and distracting me with other things.

My t-shirt for instance... it's so old now, a favourite. I think I got it when Mizuno first started sponsoring me; blue, with black sleeves and a white strip separating the two colours. I'm so terrible at buying new clothes; half my wardrobe is ancient, like this t-shirt, or Victor bought it for me. He's always got my size right, has never bought me anything I didn't like. Apart from formal wear, then... meh... but my normal day-to-day things... he's never pushed me to be more fashionable or stylish, never got me anything he knew I wouldn't be comfortable in.

I remember when I moved to St Petersburg, we spent a day going through his wardrobe, laughing at some of the hideous things hoarded within, making space for me. A few days later a parcel arrived, containing a few t-shirts. Navy, black, slate colours. His colours, I had thought. "They're too small for you," I noticed. He just smiled and tossed them at me. "I know, they're for you."

That goes one way; Victor is very precise about his clothes. He's always on the lookout for yet another trench coat, but it'll take six months, a year even, to find exactly the right one to add to the collection. It's always been both easy and difficult present shopping for him; he is used to acquiring what he wants, what he needs himself. New skates, new sweatpants, new fancy watch. So I steer clear, and try to think of things he wouldn't think to get himself, and always veer towards the sentimental or the silly. For his twenty-ninth birthday and our second Christmas together, the year I was injured, I got him a poodle onesie, and took him away for a weekend, where we ended up not really wearing anything at all until we checked out... He wears the onesie when he's sick, acts like a big baby and sits there sneezing with his floppy ears drooping.

I frown at the contrast. He needs my comfort now, far more than when he's dressed up like Makkachin and Sobachin (she _loves_ the onesie, she gets very excited). Sobachin didn't react well when Victor started crying. She started whimpering, even started howling a little. As Victor slowly calmed down so did she; whilst I have my legs over his thighs, her head is on his knees. She wanted to climb up too, but I'm in the way. Gomen, Soba-chan.

As Victor starts to sigh, I press a kiss into his forehead through his hair, and start to stroke his hair. Again, another difference between us; he loves stroking mine - he says he loves how thick and soft it is - and I love it when he does. His fingers dig in and massage my scalp; he doesn't stroke me like he does Sobachin. But because he's so self-conscious about his thinning hair - it's not thinning  _that_ much, it will be a long while yet before he should properly worry - Victor doesn't like me returning the favour. Except in moments like these. My fingers shy away from the top of his head, because I have no intention of teasing him, and centre at his neckline, waving up from there, making a mess of the shorter hairs there.

After a while, Victor sighs my name. "Yamerou... Yuri. I'll fall asleep if you carry on. Feels nice."

I smile. "That's not a good reason to stop, Victor." But I let my fingers come to a slow halt. I don't move them away however.

Victor, baka. I can feel you frown as the sensation ends.

We sit there in silence for a long while. It's getting late in the afternoon; I had meant to put laundry on, but it can keep until tomorrow. Victor had wanted to go to Nagahama Ramen tonight, because we hadn't been in a while; I'm not so sure he will want to still. I'm thinking we ought to visit my parents, ask Oka-san to make katsudon for us. Victor has a backlog of medals, he's earned XL for a while to come.

His thumb runs over my hip tenderly. Usually his hand has a very different business there, but I know he means nothing by it; I know when he wants something, when he wants me. Even if he did... I don't like using sex to fix him. I don't like it when he uses it to fix me. It tastes... bitter; it doesn't work. I remember... after... it was a while without. He kissed me, every day, many times a day, and I kissed him, because he wanted to, because I wanted to. He held me, hugged me, looked after me. I longed to be whole, and not like that. It was a relief, after we decided that he would return with  _History Maker_ and  _You Only Live Once_ , when I looked at him and felt  _starved_ of him, saw that he felt the same. We made it work that night, around my cast, and cared a little less about how much noise we made.

"Victor..." He nudges my collarbone with his nose; he's listening. "Arigatō."

I can feel him frown. "What for?"

I know what's going to follow. He's going to tell me I don't owe him thanks. Anata... I asked you 'what for' when you apologised. I know that I don't  _owe_ you. I hope you know that you don't owe me either. "For writing about this... I still can't."

He's quiet for a while. Don't say that I'm welcome, don't make me wrong. "... I know."

Over the top of his head I screw my eyes shut, and sigh shakily. I press a kiss into his hair. Good. Ureshī.

In my arms, Victor eventually groans reluctantly. "Come on, let's... let's make a start on Rostelecom." And he lifts his head up to see what I'd done with his laptop, with his glasses. I hand him his glasses; I've been holding them since I took them off him so he could cry. His laptop is on the desk next to mine, and I'm not ready yet for him to get up and get it.

"We can take a break," I suggest. "Want something to eat? Some tea?"

He huffs out a small laugh. "You Japanese. You're as bad as the English when it comes to tea."

It's an old joke, one I've heard plenty of times, and not just from him. It took a while to come up with a standard response. "That is grossly unfair. Our tea is much, much better."

He smiles at this familiarity and nods, doesn't argue. The only tea we drink is green. "I'm fine."

... Sure?

He slowly sits up, strokes Sobachin's head, and even as he reaches out for his laptop he keeps one hand on my ankle, holding me in place. "Stay?"

Mochiron. Demo... "Why... it _can_ wait until tomorrow."

He smiles at me, genuinely. "I know. But..." And he chuckles at this. "I'm thinking of Yurio fondly right now. I'm glad he was there, in St Petersburg with us. I want to think of that when I think of Moscow. It..." And he frowns. "It'll be too harsh otherwise."

I smile sadly. "Wakatta."

He gestures for me to take his spot, and leans back into me, my legs bracketting him. I wrap my arms round him, wriggle a bit to get comfortable, and laugh when Sobachin spies her chance and jumps up next to us. The chair wobbles precariously, but she settles quickly. Silly girl; you're still a puppy really. We're meant to protect you, not you protect us already. Victor bends his knees up to balance the laptop against his thighs.

We both take a deep breath. "Where should I start?" He asks, uncertain.

I think. Then... "Start when we left."

His fingers begin to fly over the keys.

* * *

* * *

I - _we_ \- had hoped that competing on home ground, in Yurio's home city even, would give an advantage. Yuri and I hoped it. But we were not naive when we boarded our flights.

Being assigned the last two stages of the Grand Prix had given us time to continue training through the autumn. But it also meant that we had barely a fortnight after the NHK Trophy in Hiroshima to prepare for and get to Moscow for the Rostelecom Cup. Yuri and I decided that it would be best to leave as soon as possible after the NHK for Russia, so that Yurio was rested and settled when he came to compete. Yurio didn't disagree... but he wasn't exactly enthusiastic either. For  _him_ , I should point out; he's never enthusiastic about much.

I... I wish he had talked to us more, before we left. It might have made a difference, if we had known what was already going through his head. We should have tried harder, to figure it out.

He did talk. Just not of anything, in the scheme of things, important. But I'll get to that.

It was a palaver from the moment we landed at Sheremetyevo. Yuri switched the airplane mode off on his phone as we waited for our bags, signed into the airport's wifi, and his eyes widened quickly. "Kuso..." My eyebrows shot up my forehead. He pulled a face at me. " _They know..._ "

I laughed at how dramatic he sounded. Who knew what? Then he turned his phone around and I pulled a face too. Ugh... Yuri's Angels were patrolling the airport, waiting for Yurio. Someone had posted a photo of us at check-in in Fukuoka on Instagram, saying Yurio must have been his way (it was all referencing Yurio, not the _three of us_ ), and there were hundreds of comments speculating which flight he would be arriving on. Which meant the angels had started scouring every possible route we could be taking and were out in force at Arrivals for every feasible flight.

I'm so glad that when I first started skating internationally and acquired a fan following, social media was barely a thing compared to today. My senior debut was back during a time when smartphones were still in development. Ugh, now I feel old... Back then the worst would be a gaggle of reporters, all wired from smoking too much and drinking too much coffee during the wait. Arriving back in Moscow however... there wasn't a jumble of inane questions and flashes from cameras. It was just a wall of  _noise_. People _fainted_ when Yurio came through the doors. But mostly they  _screamed_. There was security everywhere to enforce the barriers they had had to erect to hold the crowd off.

Yuri was  _mortified_. So was I, if I'm really honest. Worst, we were back in Russia; I couldn't hold his hand to calm him because it would invite trouble. I was glad Yuri had his mask on, because at least he could hide behind it. I did my best to put a face on, told Yuri to keep pushing the trolley with our luggage on, and turned to Yurio -

Just in time to see something slide away from his face. Not on to, off. Next thing I knew, Yuri Plisetski was giving the shrieking crowd his trademark smirk, and taking selfies and signing anything and everything thrust at him.

I... was shocked. Not by the crowd, by the total loss of control of some of his fans, but by  _him_. He was on auto pilot, a ghost wearing a mask. It sent shivers down my spine; I knew that it was wrong.

I had to haul him out of the clutches of his fans so that we could leave. Yakov had sent a car; the driver was so unimpressed, he nearly ran over some of the more ardent fans who wouldn't get out of the way. In the blacked-out safety of the car, I put my arm round Yuri. Yurio, from the front,  _waved_. Then, as we drove out of the airport, it all drained away in an instant. Before we left the airport, he turned his head to stare at a particular pedestrian crossing, and looked... empty.

Of course. Usually, when Yurio returned to Moscow, Nicolai always picked him up.

Yakov keeps an apartment opposite the Luzhniki Stadium, where the Cup was being held. None of his skaters had been assigned to Rostelecom, so he offered it to us. It was only small, with one bedroom and a double-sofa bed in the living room, so we stuck Yurio in the bedroom to avoid giving him a bad back - I have yet to find a sofa bed that  _doesn't_  - and Yuri and I slept in the living room. After the first day, we stopped folding out the bed, and just spread the mattress and the cushions on the floor. Another downside of the apartment was that the heating was somewhat unreliable. There were a few nights when I would wake to find Yuri putting on more layers and curling into my arms shivering; because of him, I needed none, as he was my own personal hot water bottle. Yurio came out a couple of mornings to find us like that, and rolled his eyes. He was used to it by then.

Those were the cons. One of the biggest pros to the apartment, and not staying in the Star Hotel again with the other skaters, was that we avoided King JJ.

The Canadian arrived a few days after we did, and Sheremetyevo once again had to put up barriers at Arrivals, though to a lesser degree. Yurio despised him still, holding on to his grudge from his first senior season and JJ patronising him. Yuri and I had watched JJ's performance at Skate Canada, where he had won Gold over Otabek and Minami, and the next day Yurio had been fuming on the ice; clearly he'd streamed it too. That night he nicked some beers from Mari-neechan, got more loose-lipped than he had intended, and ranted about the many, many things that the Canadian had done or said that he had not forgotten.

The 'ladies first' would have rankled me too. When I was Yurio's age, I still had long hair, was developing the persona of the Ice Fairy. Back then, I handled comments like that differently (JJ would never have won the Rostelecom Cup if he tried that on me), but they would still make me put my back up. For Yuri, JJ didn't really appear on his radar the same way - JJ was far from the only one to have ever overlooked him - but respected that Yurio felt keenly that he had something to prove. We knew from watching his performance at Skate Canada that JJ was out to prove himself, with clear intentions of accomplishing what he had failed to three years ago; a clean sweep. For the last couple of years, Yurio and I had kept him a long way away from Gold, and even at the Four Continents Otabek had given him tough competition. Now that I was out of the race, and Yurio was... not at strength, JJ thought the path was clear for him to make his ascent, finally.

But enough about him. Yuri had no complaint, and kept his eyes focused forward. Whilst we could, we used our proximity to Luzhniki to our advantage, and practiced for every hour that we could. Eventually, when they closed the rink to prepare for the competition, we started winding down anyway to build up Yurio's energy so he was rested and ready. Still, Yakov had access to the roof-top; Yuri would bundle up, tell Yurio to do the same, and they went up there to go over the choreography. We had a view of the stadium from there; Yuri told Yurio to project himself into it, to imagine what he wanted to tell that audience through his skating.

When I came to face the reporters on Yurio's behalf, I had to check myself for a moment, to remember which language I needed to speak. Speaking Russian was like riding a bike, but it felt a little rusty to start. By then, my mind was becoming multi-lingual, switching on who I was with. I only realised it then, on home soil. There were some strange questions about my commitment ceremony with Yuri, about whether we intended to officialise it; I ignored them, and talked of how Yuri and I were proud of Yurio's progress and looked forward to winning Gold at his side. I was there to talk about Yurio's skating, and Yuri is a private person; I was protective of him, protective of his trust in me. Amongst friends I liked to gush about how happy he made me, not to the press.

Then it came to the day.

The heating was off again. Yuri was sleeping on my chest, so cold he even had his hood up around his ears, yet his toes were sticking out from the duvet, too hot. I had woken up naturally and easily. I had stuck my phone on silent, and I was messaging Chris back and forth after he wished us all good luck. He was telling me about a guy he had gone on a date with the night before, bemoaning that he hadn't heard back from him yet and picking out such minor flaws that I could tell he was smitten, when Yurio came out of the bedroom, yawning. I forgot to message back for a while.

"Khorosho li spalos'?" I whispered. Yuri slept on.

"Hmm," Yurio answered noncommittally. I wasn't convinced; the shadows under his eyes that had been growing more and more pronounced were going to need a lot of concealer.

He stared at Yuri for a moment, stared at him with something I couldn't read for a moment. Then, when he spoke, he spoke in English, even though he could see Yuri was asleep. "Mila messaged. She and Yakov are coming; they're on the train. Yakov's going to stay at the Star. She says Georgi is coming too, with Ksana and Kira."

I smiled at that, particularly the last. Georgi... rehab was the best thing for him. I lost track a little of what happened as it did, but he met Ksana waiting for his coffee in a shop just round the corner from the rink in St Petersburg. He knocked hers out of her hand and nearly jabbed her in the eye with his hair, so he made it up to her with a date. He was very intense, she once told Yuri. Then Anya eloped with her new beau, splashing it all over her Instagram, and Georgi lost it a bit. Yakov sent him off to rehab, and Ksana got on with her life, met someone else. Then, when Georgi returned, worn out from talking too much in therapy, he bumped into her again; same coffee shop, same queue, no spills this time. But she was with someone else... who then cheated on her. She dumped her unworthy boyfriend, bumped into Georgi again, and a few months later a little strip told them that Kira was coming. And at the sound of his baby daughter's heartbeat, life was never the same.

He's a skating instructor now; he teaches the beginners. The kids all love taking the piss out of him, but they also love him; he's a good coach. He's happy. I'm glad; Ksana reminds me of Yuri. She's quieter, calmer, shy; she's a primary school teacher, and I imagine she's a good one. We went to their wedding, and Kira is... an ugly duckling baby, or so I hope. According to her parents, she's the most beautiful baby ever, but I beg to differ; I've seen Yuri's baby photos. AHHH...

Yurio was terrible with babies though, so best of luck to all of us.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, hugged his knees, his back to me. "Otabek can't make it. His coach chewed him out for coming to the NHK."

I paused. "I'm sorry to hear that." I was, genuinely. It would have been nice if his friend could come, though I understood why he hadn't. Otabek had been confirmed for the Final; he ought to have been focusing on that.

Yurio shrugged nonchalantly. "I wasn't expecting him to anyway." Liar. There was then a long, awkward silence. I waited... I felt like he was measuring whether or not to broach a subject. "I don't think he and Mila are going to work out."

I frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"They don't mention each other anymore."

Huh. Observant. "That's a shame," I said, honestly. "They looked good together."

He scoffed, sent a withering look at me over his shoulder. "You only saw them the once!" Yuri fidgeted in my arms, and Yurio adjusted his volume. "All they did was suck each other's faces off in a night club."

I raised an eyebrow. I'm sure they did a lot more than that, Yurachka. He narrowed his eyes at me. "You know something," he accused.

I pulled a face. "Not really..."

"Spill, Nikiforov."

I chuckled at his command. Yuri murmured in protest, but went on sleeping. "Mila said something stupid at SAYO'S BAR." Yurio frowned at me, curious. "She said it was just sex. He heard."

Yurio groaned with exasperation and flopped down on the mattress next to us sulkily, muttering words in Russian that I'm not going to translate. He called her an idiot, essentially. I didn't entirely disagree, and added, "she didn't mean it."

He scoffed. "That just makes it even more stupid."

I didn't disagree with that either. "They might work it out."

Yurio went silent, and after a moment I turned my head and realised he was staring at me curiously. "... Is that what you guys did?"

... Huh? It dawned on me that Yurio might have had a very strange idea of how Yuri and I got together. It wasn't something that we would have thought to tell him about; after all, for some of it, he had been there. But then... he saw us meet at the banquet in Sochi, saw how mercilessly I flirted with Yuri in Hasetsu, saw... saw how he didn't stand a chance against Yuri's eros. By the time he saw us again, I actually was sleeping with Yuri. So, really... "In a way."

Yurio pulled a face at my vague answer, then shook his head as he realised that actually, he didn't want to know how things began. Silly boy, be that way. It's a beautiful tale; you're missing out.

I turned my head back to him. "Don't worry about Mila and Otabek, Yurio. They'll be fine."

He nodded pensively for a moment, and then frowned, caught. "I'm not worrying!"

Uh-huh. Yuri muffled in his sleep again, and I caught enough words to realise he thought he was talking to Sobachin, and grinned. I gently tugged his hood down a little so I could press a kiss into his hair, forgetting that Yurio was there. When I turned back to him, intending to tell him to go back to bed, I stopped.

He was looking at Yuri, at  _us_ in the oddest way. I... I want to say he looked like he was  _jealous_ , but... that wasn't it. Envy is the closest approximation of what I say in his eyes, but not of... not of Yuri and I as a couple. Yurio genuinely, to this day, has never had any interest in romance. I rather suspect that he's like me; he's no blushing virgin anymore, he's too fiery for chastity, but it will take someone quite extraordinary to knock his socks off, to really turn his world upside down. I can't wait to meet whoever that'll be.

I yanked the duvet out under him, and, before he could protest, flung it over him. Whatever he was about to say, he forgot and stared at me wide-eyed. Oh please. The number of times he came round to our house for dinner and lay under the skylight with us, stroking Sobachin. "Go back to sleep, Yura. No need for any of us to be up yet."

"Hmm..." I chuckled as Yuri blinked, moaning his agreement. Yuri looked up at me, smiled dozily, and yawned, closing his eyes again, and frowned. "Mmm... attakai..."

"Too many layers on, lyubov'," I murmured gently. He nodded and sat up awkwardly, like a baby giraffe walking, and yanked his hoodie off. Then he settled back exactly where he was before on my chest, his t-shirt all askew.

"Ohaiyo..." He murmured and then was asleep again, snoring quietly. I don't think he even noticed Yurio, who was just two enormous green eyes peering out of the duvet next to me.

I grinned. "Oyasumi." I turned to Yurio and tried not to laugh. He hadn't moved. I reached out and patted him teasingly on his shoulder. "Son khorosho, Yurio. You've earned it." And I closed my own eyes. Big day today, I didn't say out loud. If you want to stay, you can stay, I didn't say out loud either.

He did.

* * *

* * *

To be continued...


	16. Locust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oddly, I got a brief touch of writer's block. So I wrote the next chapter in my favourite coffee shop, and then a burger and a banana milkshake at GBK... and the rest of this finally started to come out.
> 
> Need to go back over it for the typos, but... here you go!

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 12

_Locust_

* * *

_A soft voice rings out, clear and light, gentle and kind. The boy flies upon the wings of the piano... the brass step to the edge, but they are not gone._

_It's rising... Hope is rising..._

* * *

* * *

I had to get it from Yakov, but he was more than willing to help.

My phone rang, as I had hoped and expected. I was glad to see the Caller ID.

"Hey," I answered.

"Hey," Victor returned into my ear.

He sounded distant; not his fault, or intention. It was because he wasn't right there next to me, by my own choice. "Hang on, I'm going to put my earphones on."

"Better?" He asked once I had the buds in my ears.

I smiled. "Hmm." I had him on surround sound, as it were.

"How is it?"

I looked up at my destination. "Strange... empty." He let me pause, to clarify. "There's someone else living there now, there's lights on, but..." I trailed off. I didn't know the end of that sentence. Again, Victor just listened. "It's weird. I don't really remember how we got here. We just talked the whole way."

"What about?" Victor asked with light curiosity.

I chuckled. "You."

"Me?"

I chuckled again at his surprise. "He told me about what you were like to train with before you came to Hasetsu. He said he never saw you fall, but only because you never practiced jumps in front of the others, only your choreography." I smiled at the thought, of what that meant. "He said that the only people who had seen you fall during practice were all long retired and sworn to secrecy."

"You've seen me fall."

I smiled. "I have."

But only after we switched and I became his coach. It was a very strange day; I was more embarrassed than he was, because it felt like something had changed. It had been many years since he had messed up a jump in public; as his biggest fan, I should know. He just laughed at himself, and then at me, at the look on my face. "Oh Yuri," he said, gliding up to me and hugging me. "You should know by now, better than anyone, that I'm not perfect!"

I was still doing physio at the time, though the cast was gone and I no longer needed crutches. By the end of the day, I found myself realising that I felt like something had levelled, and was prepared to make my peace with that instead of feeling guilty. I knew, with great happiness, that Victor off the ice was very, very human, and prone to mistakes just like everyone. It was about time that I learnt that, on the ice, the same held true.

Outside of what used to be Nicolai Plisetski's apartment block, with my husband on the phone to me, I remembered that Yurio chose to insult the Victor who refused to let others see faults in his Ice Fairy persona, even at the height of his career, in Russian. To this day I have no idea what he actually called him; the words are lost to memory, along with the route we took or the exact address. What little Russian I had learnt once was very rusty, but it was good enough to direct a taxi to the right suburb in Moscow and to have no trouble handing over the correct amount of money, and hint along the way to the driver that I wasn't a tourist that he could scam by taking the 'scenic route'.

I knew the way from there; I had the address on my phone. It wasn't far to walk. I knew that it was likely, very likely, that I would never come back. I had slept there, in a sleeping bag on the floor of Yurio's room in a spare set of pyjamas from Nicolai that I drowned in, but Yurio's clothes were far too small for me. The next morning, Nicolai drove Yurio and I back to the Star, waited for me to check-out, took us to the airport, and then back to his apartment to wait because of the delays. I kept trying to thank him, but he just shook his head, and tried his best English. "Katsuki family look after Yurachka. Plisetski family look after you."

I had to remember that... that I _had_ thanked him. "Victor... How is he?" I asked, changing the subject.

There was a pause. I could picture Victor turning to look for our charge, or maybe checking to hear he wouldn't be overheard. "Kare wa shizukadesu. Demo... shikashi kare wa koko ni imasu."

"Kare wa nonde imasu ka?"

"Īe."

"Eh? Nazena no?"

"Mila."

Ah. Big Sister was in charge. Good. "How long do I have?"

Victor was quiet for a moment. Then... "Best get going, lyubov'."

Ah, wakatta.

* * *

* * *

Yurio woke with abashed grumpiness; his forehead was pressed up against my forearm. He'd curled up, much like his Potya, into my side, his forehead the only point of contact. We had both woken when Yuri's alarm went off - he was awake, messaging Phichit, still lying on my chest, and he'd forgotten to switch the alarm off. He shied off, rubbing his forehead with surprise, but directed inwardly, like he had not expected to find himself with his guard down. I deliberately said nothing, smiling only, and reminded him that I'd got him more of his favourite cereal.

We then treaded carefully, though less around Yurio, and more around the stadium itself.

Some we openly sought out; Mila, Yakov, Georgi and his family. Yakov looked Yurio up and down, and then nodded, satisfied. "Hmm. Da. I look forward to seeing you skate, Yura." (Mila and I shared a glance; never had he said the same sentiment to or of either of  _us_...) Then he turned to me and looked far less impressed. "Vitya. What the  _hell_ are you wearing?"

Ah yes.

When Yuri became my coach, he made it very,  _very_ clear that he would not be repeating the same mistake I made at the CSK. When he appeared rink-side, he took that mistake a little too far in the opposite direction; he wore his usual sports gear, trackies, jacket, trainers. Not his Team Japan jacket, given that he was representing me, and therefore Russia. I didn't mind - _he was there_ , that was what mattered to me - but I did miss his usual jacket; the colours suit him so well, and he looked  _wrong_ without it by the ice, particularly given that we had switched sides of the barriers. So, for my Grand Prix Final when I skated to  _History Maker_ and  _You Only Live Once_ , I gave him his late birthday/early Christmas present; a jacket in the same colours as his TJ one, minus the flag and JSF logos, and emblazoned with  _Team Ice Castle Hasetsu_ , affiliated with  _Minako Okukawa Ballet Studio_ and  _Yu-Topia Katsuki Onsen_.

Yuri blushed bright red when I gave it to him. But he  _loved_ it; he wore it to every event, had a habit of zipping it up just so whenever he had to face the reporters on my behalf. But it had no match for me, and I didn't want to appear more formal than he did. I was only the secondary; Yuri took the lead for Yurio's coaching, and I was there to support them both. So Yuuko, as a wedding present, got us both new jackets. They're both black - Yuri's has the Team Japan's uniform blue stripes, whilst mine has red and white from my Olympic Team Russia jacket. And, instead of a team...

_The Katsuki-Nikiforov School of Figure Skating  
Hasetsu, Saga Prefecture_

They weren't a joke present either. We _loved_ them. So my trench coat always ends up on a chair with the Makkachin box, and over my button-up shirts I always throw this jacket on, equalising the disparity between Yuri and I. I'm the more formal one, so I deal with PR. Were it not for his shoes, one could mistake Yuri for a skater still, waiting his turn on the ice.

I was glad we had those matching jackets. On the ice, in the last minute before  _Who You Really Are_ , Yurio glared. "Where are your rings?"

"Huh?" I stared down at the empty spot on my left hand, on Yuri's left hand. Yuri looked surprised too; why was he only noticing it then, why was it even important? We'd been taking them off ever since we landed in Moscow. We knew, from living in St Petersburg, that it was easier. And it really wasn't the right time to explain why to Yurio. So I just smiled; he would know that I didn't explain, but we could at least answer his question.

I unzipped my jacket just enough so he could see the chain I wore round my neck, and Yuri followed suit with a smile. We still wore them, just out of sight. Yurio frowned anyway. I wondered what went through his mind... but he was supposed to be thinking of  _Who You Really Are_... oh. Who _he_ really was, then. He was meant to be thinking of the ridiculous adventures of the best and wisest. Not... well. Yuri and I.

Yuri knew we were running out of time, so he glared at his charge. "Yurio." The young man looked up from the chains round our necks with surprise at his coach's sudden sternness. "Turn around."

"Huh?" He pulled a face.

"Just do it!"

Yurio turned reluctantly. "Why? Have I got something on my - ARGH! ARGHHH!!!"

Yuri seized him in an awkward hug over the barrier, exactly like I had once done at the CSK years ago. I grinned and jumped on the pair of them, hugging them both with my longer arms. Yurio, with his coaches' heads on each of his shoulders, tried to scramble away like a freaked out cat. "THE HELL! Get off me, you -!"

"Just skate today."

Yurio stopped immediately in our arms, surprised. Yuri raised his head from Yurio's right shoulder, and looked over the audience without a care. At the edge of our awareness, we could hear them cheering our boy's name. "H-Hmm."

On his left shoulder, I nodded. "You're on home ground, Yurio. Show us all the skating you like best. No holding back."

Yuri grinned at the prospect on his other side. "Hmm. No more compromises," he added. "Okay?"

Yurio dropped his head, and we both hugged him a little tighter when we realised he was trying not to smile, was trying to hide it from the audience. "Got it." And, at the call of his name, he pushed off from the barrier as we pushed him forward too, and he skated round for the audience to cheer like mad. Silence was called for, and Yurio looked back at us, at where he knew Mila and Yakov were sitting, back at  _us_... and then waited for the violin.

 _He was so good_... the whole time I forgot to analyse, knew that Yuri had forgotten to as well, as we watched him skate to three very, very silly men in a dining hall a very long way away, getting excited over this music playing on the TV, and sprinting to the ice to skate to it all through the night until they'd worked out something they loved, something they were proud of, something that they wanted everyone to see. I squeezed Yuri to me in excitement as our little brother blazed across the ice, as he threw himself from the slow choreography into the combination jump, landing his quad toe-triple toe with aplomb, flying into his signature spins, speeding straight into his triple axel. He grinned all the way through his step sequence, suddenly throwing in a beautiful Ina Bauer that we hadn't planned, simply because he wanted to, before generating speed into the triple flip, kicking up frozen dust for his final pose.

 _Perfect!_  There was our Yurio!

* * *

* * *

We were so embarrassing. Not embarrassed, absolutely no way. But we definitely made Yurio _squirm_. When he came off the ice after  _Who You Really Are_ , back to the kiss and cry, his arms in the air, asking us whether he'd done alright, Victor and I nearly jumped onto the ice to catch him. We didn't, but Victor did duck, grab Yurio around his knees and hoisted him into the air straight off the ice like a trophy. I was nearly in tears... I was so proud...

The last time Yurio competed at the Rostelecom Cup was the year we competed together, Yurio and I. He had let himself down that year on the Short Program, had had to work painfully hard to make up for it to earn Silver. That year,  _our year_ , Yurio added over ten points to his previous score in the NHK, and topped the scoreboard with 109.88. When his score was announced, he forgot himself,  _smiled widely_ , and seized me in a hug. "Ya sdelal eto!" He exclaimed in my ear, over and over, forgetting himself. Victor laughed at the sight of us, at what Yurio was saying, at the fact that he knew that I understood. You did it, Yurio. You did it!

Then JJ took to the ice... and wiped our smiles off our faces.

 _Kuso_...

We'd been so careful to avoid the Canadian. I knew how badly JJ rubbed up both Yurio and Victor, and we wanted Yurio to go on to the ice with nothing but positive emotions, and thus had shut down any discussion of why we were concealing our wedding rings from the public view. But after we forgot... and Yurio was  _furious_.

JJ was after vengeance. He'd gone with more pop rock, something he'd had produced specifically, and the crowd knew the lyrics already from Skate Canada. From the backstage corridors, we could hear the stadium  _vibrating_... we couldn't look away from the screens, no matter how much we wanted to. Into the second half I had to mentally scold myself, commanded myself to  _pay attention_. Analyse...

His quad lutz was good, but not natural, though JJ was trying to hide it. Chris had been the master of the quad lutz, I had yet to see someone, including Victor, who could perform them to such signature flawlessness. No deductions however. His confidence oozed out of his quad toe-triple salchow. And he'd narrowly avoided deductions on his mandatory triple axel, but if I was his coach I'd make him practice his forward entry into the axel; that jump used to be my strength. I had worked hard with Celestino many years ago to make the unusual entry into the jump an advantage of mine over other skaters who struggled with the change, used to going backwards. And he was still excellent at his aggressively fast spins; I used to opt for grace. As for JJ's PCS... his theme was an unsubtle 'Victory'. He didn't need to hide his ambition, his hunger for gold. He skated like a warrior; it lacked imagination, but it worked. JJ Style was back, and it put him nearly six points ahead of Yurio, and the rest of the field.

We shouldn't have watched. The joy we had all felt after Yurio's Short Program was lost, and I struggled to claw some memory of that feeling back.

I was glad that Yakov, Mila, Georgi and his family were there. We all went out for dinner, and Yurio sulked all the way through. We all seemed out of sorts though; when I looked at Mila, listened as she told me the latest gossip about Sala and Emil - Emil, at the end of his Free Skate at his last qualifier, had pulled my so-called signature finish, pointed toward Sala at the kiss and cry, and Sala was still freaking out about it - and I couldn't help but wonder how things were with Otabek. They, along with Sala and Emil, were confirmed for the Final... would either of these couples be alright then?

Mila smiled and asked me, in a quiet voice, so that we wouldn't be overheard by neighbouring tables, how married life was going. She'd asked me that in Hiroshima in SAYO'S BAR, but she'd been teasing then, and she wasn't teasing in Moscow. I looked at my husband, sat next to me, chatting with Yakov (or rather,  _to_ his former coach), and I couldn't help but feel a little smug. How was it that  _I_ , the most messed up person I know, so messed up that I spent nearly my whole life worrying that I would never learn to be happy, would never be happy... how was it that _I_ had made it, and she and Otabek, and Sala and Emil hadn't? And I couldn't even display it; I couldn't hold my husband's hand or lean over and kiss him, or even put my arm round him, without inviting trouble from those who might be watching?

"Is it easier back home?" Mila asked me. She gestured between Victor and I. "I mean, is it easier being together in Japan than it is here?"

I knew what she meant. I frowned, and thought about it for a moment. "Yes... though..." I cleared my thoughts, figured out how to explain it. "In Japan we are very reserved people. We don't show affection in public like they do in the West; we don't hold hands or kiss on the street. But that's everyone, not just men or just women. Here in Russia... again, things are reserved, but... the added pressure of knowing that  _in particular_ gay couples shouldn't show affection is... that doesn't exist to the same degree where I come from. In Japan it's not anyone's business; if someone were to make an issue out of Victor and I, _they_ would be the one causing the commotion, not us, as long as we were behaving ourselves. We do not like conflict. But here..." I shrugged. I'm not Russian. It's not my place to pass judgement on a culture that I am not part of, that I couldn't possibly say that I understand. It makes me sad that there are young men and women living there who might be frightened or pressured; they wouldn't be alone in the world. But the world is changing... I'm often told by wise old men that things were very different in their time. I hope that when I'm a wise old man, I'll say the same.

"When do you fly back?" She asked, and I was glad that she didn't press the point. Mila had learnt, when we trained together in St Petersburg years ago, that I was not the type to be overly nosey with, and that only Victor could get away with teasing me. But I had also learnt that, in between Yurio calling her names, she was big sister figure to Yurio. Our strange on-ice extended family should make an effort for the sake of our kin, I thought.

"We don't know yet," I said in a quiet voice. She frowned and then understood when I glanced at Yurio at the other end of the table. "It all depends on..."

On whether Yurio wanted to stay for a bit in his home town. We most certainly wouldn't drag him back to Hasetsu against his will - good luck to us if we tried - and even though Nicolai was buried in St Petersburg it was not where he had lived. If Yurio wanted to stay, we would make it work for him; nothing was more important. Thus, we had no return tickets yet; it wouldn't be the first time we booked last minute that year. Mila nodded, and then got swept up in a conversation with Ksana, and I chuckled as Kira puffed out her cheeks in her baby chair between her parents, food all over her face, all of sudden finding me incredibly fascinating before her father tempted her with her water cup. Maybe it was because I had dark hair like Daddy, though mine was less pointy.

I thought of Sobachin, wondered where she was in that moment. Whilst we were away for the NHK we took her back to my parents; apparently she would steal into my old room and sleep on my old bed. I thought of Makkachin... and got my phone out, checked the time in Japan, and sent a message to Mari-neechan to be careful with what Sobachin could get her paws on. Last thing we needed was one of us having to go back if she swallowed something too. My phone soon beeped back.

> 真利  
>  不安な親？

I rolled my eyes. That didn't need answering.  _Of course_ we are.

I looked up from my phone to my husband, and... I wanted to touch him. Not anything... much, just... just his hand. I'd have settled for poking him in the ribs, just to annoy him, for that second of contact. This time three years ago he was hugging me goodbye to go back to Hasetsu without me, to look after Makkachin. I was glad that he was there, that that was a long time ago, that we had Sobachin now and he wouldn't need to go anywhere without me that night, but... I wanted to be sure he was really there. Wasn't that silly?

It was why we slept in each other's arms every night in Moscow. Outside we had to be distant. Inside, we had Yurio to be quiet for. And then... it was Yakov's apartment. It was a bit... awkward. Even more awkward than being at my parents'. Like he was watching... It felt even more awkward, sat two seats away from him. Victor turned to me, feeling my eyes on him, and we both smiled. It would have to be enough for the time being.

We all stayed for as long as little Kira would let us, until she started crying because she was tired. Yurio was also becoming short tempered; he too needed to sleep. The restaurant wasn't far from the Star, or from Yakov's apartment; we helped Georgi get his family into his car, waved him off and walked back, splitting at the last second. Yakov had forgotten himself, from a combination of vodka and tiredness, and had fallen into his old role, and started telling Yurio all the things he needed to watch out for during his Free Skate the next day. Victor and I, amused, let him; it was all things we'd say too, though with less stern a face. We thanked him for letting us use his apartment - he could have kicked us out to the Star in his stead - and silently for checking Yurio, and went home.

Once we got in, I put my ring back on, sighing at its return. Victor smiled at me doing so, leant forward and kissed my forehead whilst Yurio wasn't looking and did the same before starting to shed his coat. My forehead _burned_... I reached out, and stopped him. "Yuri?"

I waited for Yurio to disappear into the bathroom, and then grabbed my husband's hand and tugged. He followed me willingly, curiously as I took a turn out of the apartment towards the roof.

None of the other buildings around were taller; no one was there to see. I pulled Victor into me so that he crowded me in against the wall, and kissed him like I had wanted to for hours. He moaned into my mouth, tightened his gloved hold on the back of my neck to keep me close, and when we both had run out of oxygen his head fell into my coat's collar. "Hmm, I've missed you..."

I chuckled. So had I. I was glad he still had his gloves on, that I had deliberately kept mine on, so that when we both unzipped each other and reached in, our fingers and palms weren't cold. I had to stop kissing him - I couldn't concentrate on his lips, his hand, and what I was doing with my lips and my hand simultaneously - and let my head fall forward, so I could moan quietly right into his ear. Sly fox that he is however, Victor wasn't content with that, and took advantage, close. "Yuri... _oh god_... When we get home, I'm going to -" And he whispered straight into my ear things that I most certainly will not be telling _you_. I will tell you that I could imagine it instantly, and within seconds I was coming, biting his ear lobe because it was the closest thing, other my own lip, to grip onto, and he almost stumbled as he came too.

"Oh god...  _I feel so much better now_..." Victor murmured against me. I couldn't help it; I laughed. Me too.

We sorted each other's clothes out, shared a long kiss to last for a few more days, and went back downstairs, hand in hand. We came back to an empty apartment, and a note in Cyrillic. "He's gone for a walk," Victor translated straight off, and then rolled his eyes. "He says 'don't have sex in the living room whilst I'm out'." Then he noticed me shivering; the heating was gone again. "He doesn't say anything about the bathroom... Shall I try running a bath? It might just be the radiators."

It was, thank God. We used up all the hot water, Victor sat between my legs and leant back into me, not so different from how we sit now as we write this, and we both hummed contentedly and snoozed for a bit. Then too much time passed, and Yurio didn't come back. Despite Victor's earlier teasing, neither of us were in the mood anymore, worried. There was really only one place we could think that he might want to go to alone... we had to remind ourselves that Yurio was eighteen, a man now really; he could look after himself, and would not appreciate us coddling him.

I worried enough that we did that already. Or that we didn't coddle him enough. I wasn't sure...

He came back late, very late. He had tried sneaking in, but I was trying to stay up just in case, only half asleep when the door creaked open. Victor frowned in his sleep under me, but slept on. Both Yurio and I let out a relieved breath for not waking him. As he pulled his boots off, Yurio looked away from me, sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be out this late..."

I frowned. If he was apologising, all was not well. "That's okay," I whispered back. I stopped myself from asking where he had been, knowing I'd never manage it in the right tone.

He nodded in receipt, and looked down at me, at us. No... things weren't well. In the glow of his phone, which he was using to see his way, I could see his body was tense, hunched; without my glasses I couldn't see much else. But before I could say anything after all, he wished me good night, and tiptoed to the bedroom and quietly shut the door. I laid my head back down on Victor's chest, feeling defeated. Ever since we'd seen JJ skate he'd been avoiding me, avoiding us, avoiding any chance of us saying something, constructive or otherwise. I was going to have to rely on Yakov's words, which meant I'd failed as his coach...

Just as I thought that, the door opened again. He padded out, disappeared into the bathroom - I could hear the whirr of his toothbrush and the flush of the toilet - and then he came out again, ready for the night in long pyjama pants and a long-sleeved sweatshirt. But instead of returning to the bedroom, he came back. "It... it's freezing, can... can I..."

His body language said he was regretting asking, about to scarper back and pretend he'd never said anything. So I automatically lifted up the corner of the duvet, and after a long moment of hesitation he got in. There was just enough space; I gave my vacant pillow to him, laid back on my steadily rising and falling one. As I did, I caught the smile on Victor's face; not so asleep after all. But I couldn't smile; it was unlike Yurio to do this, to ask for... what was he really after? Certainly not a three-way spoon,  _definitely_ not a three-way anything. He'd left as many inches as possible between himself and Victor, but surely he knew, after the morning, that chances were he'd wake up a lot closer in the morning if he stayed.

Some Russian thing I knew nothing about...? No, I didn't think that was likely either...

"Are all couples like this?"

"Eh?" I realised my eyes had started to drift shut. I had no idea what the time was, but it felt late. Past midnight, certainly. I focused on his face as best I could, and saw he was vaguely pointing at Victor and I, and I realised he meant whether all couples spooned or slept like this. I smiled at the rather innocent question. I knew from Mila that when he was sixteen, nearly seventeen Yurio had had a fling with one of the other skaters at his club, but whilst he'd learnt out of it that sex was nice, the emotions that went with it weren't always. Had you ever slept at someone's side before, Yurio, had you ever slept in someone's arms or held someone in yours as you dreamed? Has your bed always been so cold? I answered him honestly. "I wouldn't know; I've only ever been with this one."

Even with my terrible eyesight I could see Yurio's surprise. Yep, way back when, when Victor assigned us  _Eros_ and  _Agape_ , I was just as virginal as you were. Mā gi kai.

"Mmm-MMM," Victor murmured loudly, pointedly, feigning sleep-talking  _badly_. "Sobachin... go back to sleep."

I giggled anyway. I could see how wide Yurio's eyes were. I closed my eyes, hoping my student would follow my example. "Hmm, go to sleep, Yurio. It's been a long day. 109.88!"

I heard him scoff quietly, but I knew him better than that. He was proud of that score. He should have been.

Victor told me later that when he woke in the morning, it was to find he'd put his arm over him in the night, and Yurio was tucked in by his ribs, again barely touching him. He'd been frowning in his sleep.

It all went downhill from there.

* * *

* * *

My fingers pause on the keyboard. Victor tightens his arms around me, and I lean back into him, seeking warmth. He kisses my jaw, the nearest spot to him. He feels bereft too, I know it.

"I'm going to make some tea after all..." I say. He nods, understands. "Can you take over this bit?"

Sobachin lifts her head up - she got booted to the floor again when we shuffled about in the chair - and looks unsure whether she ought to stay or follow me. Victor leans down and strokes her soft head whilst I sort out the tea in the kitchen and go back. I hand him a cup he didn't ask for but he looks glad to receive. He holds it under his nose, breathes in the sencha; I know that once he starts typing, he'll forget to drink it, and it'll burn his tongue if he sips it now. I don't drink either; I curl up into his side, Sobachin's earlier spot, and breathe it in too, enjoying the warmth in both my hands from holding the cup.

Moscow was difficult... and even though we had known that before we got there, we still weren't prepared...

* * *

* * *

_... Because it was a god damn car crash._

It made me think of  _Agape_ at  _Onsen On Ice_... but worse.  _Agape_ had been technically brilliant. Yurio's Free Program at Rostelecom... was all over the place...

It was horrible. Worse than watching Yuri, many years ago now, fall so many times at his Grand Prix Final debut in Sochi. I didn't know him then, just felt enormous sympathy for this fresh face that had held so much promise, who people had said might give me a run for my money (they were right eventually). Worse than watching Yuri fall when I was his coach, because I knew that that he was doing his best, that he was trying to overcome something worse than capability. No... this felt worse because we knew that Yurio could do so,  _so_ much better... and it felt like he was choosing not to.

Not so deliberately... Yurio would never think to sabotage himself. But... Yuri and I thought we had been getting somewhere... that we were getting closer to him, that he was starting to come out of the shell he'd been hiding in for months... that we might get a bit closer to the true heart of his Free Program...

It wasn't Yurio's fault, not... not completely, anyway. He woke having slept badly, or more specifically not for long enough because he was out so late. He was so tired he was past the point of sulking or tantrums or snapping at Yuri and I. His practice went fine, his triple axel not as smooth as we knew he could do but okay, and after Yakov helped us find an empty conference room where we all ordered Yurio to nap, which he did without protest, his head on Yuri's lap, my coat over him like a blanket. Yuri hummed his Free Skate music gently every time Yurio looked like he would wake, soothing him back to rest. I found myself tapping my foot to it as well, standing guard outside with Yakov.

I asked my former coach what else I should do, what I might be doing wrong, how I could help Yurio. He sighed and looked at me with blunt honesty. "Nothing, Vitya. He shouldn't be skating at all yet. He's not ready. He needs to see a shrink first." He looked at the door, through which Yurio's current coach was doing his best, and said his last. "If he doesn't qualify for the final, send Yura back home. Lilia knows someone to send him to. He can't stay in Japan, can't stay _away_ , forever. It might have helped at first, but won't for much longer."

And then he walked away. I was glad that he did. I was...

 _Angry_... Without even mentioning our names, Yakov had just dismissed everything we'd been doing for months for Yurio. Yuri and I harboured more than enough doubts as to whether we were helping Yurio at all... I didn't want to hear that we should never have done anything at all.

It got worse... as we woke Yurio up, got him to warm up and stretch in preparation, and took him down towards the ice, we couldn't steer him out of JJ's path. Who grinned at the sight of the three of us, now that we couldn't avoid him anymore. "Ah, Blondie, there you are! Let's climb the podium together!"

I had to seize Yurio before he pounced. I don't want to imagine what would have happened if I hadn't grabbed him so quickly. Yuri never saw it coming, was wrinkling his nose with distaste at the arrogance underlying JJ's words, not remotely hidden in his tone. JJ himself looked taken-aback, gave an awkward laugh, and wisely left, his parents following, glaring at us like we were unfit parents. At their glares, I was so tempted to tell them to fuck off, but Yuri looked mortified. Confrontations like that made him uneasy, like many of his countrymen and women, not unique to the Japanese either.

We had a sliver of a chance when Yurio got on to the ice, came up to us on the other side of the barrier. He was still shaking with anger.

"Yurio..." Yuri tried to reach out, his hand on our boy's shoulder. "Don't think about...  _Yurio_." The boy looked up, trying to school his rage. " _Don't think at all_." That got through, and his mouth dropped open a little, surprised. "Don't think about anything. If you have to think of something, think of yesterday, and how well your Short Program went. It felt good, right, skating like that?"

He started to nod, and then his eyes flickered to the side and his rage was back again. I didn't need to turn to know that JJ had appeared again, preparing for his performance after. Before we could stop him, before we could try to stop what we knew was coming, Yurio pushed himself away and practically sprinted away. My hand remained outstretched over the barrier, Yuri's too where it had held Yurio's shoulder and hadn't been able to grab on.  _Shimatta_... nothing that followed surprised us, but it did break our hearts.

Just like in  _Onsen on Ice_ , all trace of love, of agape, was gone from Yurio's skating. It didn't even leave naked ambition... just... numbness. There was a hint of untapped fury, but mostly... it stank of uncontrollable grief.

Yuri had spent the summer crafting a program with Yurio that would be a message to Nicolai. It was all for his grandfather. And whilst Yuri had carefully skirted around ever _forcing_ Yurio to talk about it, he had managed to choreograph something that was beautiful, something purposely made so that if Nicolai were alive, he'd have been incredibly proud. It was up to Yurio to fill the program with the message he wanted to give to Nicolai; it was his idea after all, to dedicate the program to his grandfather, after saying that the music made him think of him. On the ice in Moscow... Yurio said nothing to his grandfather.

 _How could that possibly be_ _?_

I desperately wanted to look away. His movements were awkward, worst unfocused, like he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. His timing was off; Yuri had planned jumps that tied to cues from the drums in the music. He fell during the triple axel, and was slow getting back to his feet, his face barely changing, like he just didn't care anymore. He went from being angry with JJ to being too tired to be anything... he looked like he was begging for the end as the final chords rang out, and he didn't bother acknowledging the lacklustre, confused applause, too obviously not hearing it. Yuri reached out for him as he came off the ice, and he walked straight past, straight for his skate guards on the chair.

Yuri's hands hung in the air again, uselessly. I put my own on his shoulder, and he turned to me, his face looking wild.  _Help me_ , his eyes begged at me.  _I don't want to cry in front of everyone_. I watched in stupefied silence as Yurio walked straight past the kiss and cry bench; he didn't even stay for his scores, never looked back at us. I ignored the audience, now half murmuring voices and half still clapping, and gently led Yuri after him, backstage, away. Yakov came sprinting, his face red, demanding to know what the hell had just happened. I looked past him, to Mila, who looked stricken too. "Find Yurachka for me," I asked her gently. She took one look at my hand on Yuri's shoulder, nodded and disappeared. Yakov, furious that not only had Yurio just given the worst performance of his senior career but we'd now lost him too, set off looking as well in the opposite direction.

I led Yuri to the same conference room we'd hid in before, glad that the press had limited access to the halls. I closed the door behind us, and let Yuri step further forward. I let him go, struggling too. When the sob erupted from him, I stayed at the door, flinching at the sound. Yuri hid his face into his hands and his body bent and folded up to the floor, squatting as he tried not to cry. I screwed my face up, trying not to cry too.

It felt like betrayal. And it was horribly, horribly shameful.

When I finally felt just enough in control of my anger, because I was angry, I went to my husband, stepped in front of him and sat down with him, and waited for him to be able to raise from his hands. Slowly, one hand dropped away, and I caught it, and his other pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, trying to get back under control. When his other hand fell away too I caught it as well. "Yuri..."

"T-Third..." He finally spluttered out. I nodded. I had already worked it out too. "H-He... He might g-get... he might get third..." Slowly he bent forward on to his knees, and he gripped my hands in return, his head down, staring at our hands. "The others have already been... Unless JJ  _really_ messes up, which he won't, he's going to get Gold, and Yurio  _might_ beat _most_ of the others... if he gets the Bronze he'll qualify for the Final... _just_... if he doesn't..." I nodded. Let's not say that possibility out loud. "Victor..." I looked up from our hands, found him looking at me pleadingly. "I... I can't... can..." He screwed his face up, fighting another wave of tears. "I can't face..."

I knew what he was trying to ask for, and nodded. "I'll find out the scores. Wait here." I rose, kissing him on his forehead as I did, and went back out. I ignored everyone's questions until I found a screen. The camera lingered on the empty kiss and cry bench, then cut to an awkward shot of Yakov shouting at Yurio at the edge of the ice, Mila trying to step between the two of them needlessly, because Yurio was visibly just taking it. I stared at that for a moment, felt nothing I didn't already feel, and glanced at the corner of the screen for the score.

172.75... Christ. Yuri had scored just higher than that when I had to leave him for Makkachin. It placed Yurio second, behind a Lithuanian skater who hadn't been expected to make it onto the podium at all. JJ had just started, and I knew from just watching a couple of seconds that Yuri was right, he was going to come first, pushing the Lithuanian to second and Yurio to third... he'd gotten lucky; the rest of the field were all relatively new, were not in quite the same league just yet. I tried to remind myself that Yuri had qualified for Barcelona on worse standings, but Yuri Plisetski had no business qualifying for the Final on  _luck_.

I went back to Yuri with the news. He had calmed by then, and didn't get freshly upset at the news. He just nodded when I told him that Yakov and Mila had caught up with Yurio. Then he turned to me, and I knew that in the time I'd been away, he'd figured out a plan. I sat back down on the floor next to him, and listened as he told me. I... I didn't disagree. I gave Yuri Yakov's number, and he made the call. On live television, though we didn't see it at the time, Yakov took his phone out of his coat pocket mid-rant and stopped as he saw the Caller ID. He gave one last bark and stepped away to answer the call, preparing to tell whoever it was to either call back later or not at all dependent on their business. On live television, Yakov reacted to Yuri's idea. He nodded and disappeared in order to talk, and the plan went into motion.

The summer was definitely over.

* * *

* * *

To be continued...


	17. From the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What will become of me from now on? After some time, I stopped thinking about that. Maybe I forgot... how to think at all. Nothing changes anymore. This world that belongs only to me, each and every day, continues on. But I'm not lonely. It doesn't bother me at all... ahhh...
> 
> "Even if those memories make me sad, I've got to go forward, believing in the future. Even when I realise my loneliness, and am about to lose all hope, those memories make me stronger. I'm not alone... because of you.
> 
> "Thank you."
> 
> Rin, Shelter by Porter Robinson & Madeon.
> 
> For Mamae.  
> May 6th 1959 - April 17th 2006.

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 13

_From the ground_

* * *

"Oh good, there you are. I've got a spare set of clothes for you, go change in the toilets, down the hall. Let's go."

* * *

* * *

It was smaller than I had expected. Not that I know what I had expected.

So... this was where it all began, I remember thinking.

I closed my eyes, and imagined. A child who was tiny, very tiny for his age, but with a hunger that belonged to a far bigger adult. I imagined hawk-like determination, of a boy who discovered he was better at something than everyone else and wanted to be even better. I heard the scratch of ice from a time long gone, and sighed.

I opened my eyes. I wondered if the past had been kinder to this place, if it was simply age and neglect. I was going to have to compensate. Okay.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew what it would say, but I checked it anyway, opened it to send back the 'read' receipt.

 

> On our way x

Right... I needed to get ready.

I thought of being dramatic, of plunging all into darkness, of keeping hold of the remote for the lights and the music. Assuming they worked; I would need to test them. I decided against it, and not because the assumption was untrustworthy. We were already being dramatic enough as it was.

I needed to warm up anyway. No time. My yoga mat was ready, and I'd spotted a wall that would suit.

It had been a while, after all.

* * *

* * *

Yurio was pointedly silent in the taxi. I'm sorry to say that I was not in the mood to break it.

I was exhausted. I couldn't remember when I had last slept, even though I had slept, badly. The days had melded into one, long, never-ending nightmare. It had only been... forty eight hours? Since Yurio's Short Program? Oh god...

Yurio had stayed around just long enough to receive his Bronze medal - the first of his lifetime, he had only ever been too inexperienced to expect the podium yet, or Gold or Silver - but we think that was because Yakov was furious, and he knew better than to not make an appearance. He managed to evade us right up until the moment they called his name, and then we had to watch as a fake smile creaked into place. He looked like a wax-work on the podium; even JJ knew to just pretend he wasn't there, to say nothing. Yurio ignored him entirely; he didn't even look at the camera when they took pictures, that terrible fake smile unaltered. The moment that he could, he skated off, and slipped straight past us. He looked like he was going to cry, and like he would scream at us if we tried to offer comfort.

I decided I didn't care what anyone else thought anymore; I held my husband, who was breaking. I knew what was going through his head. He thought... Yuri thought he had failed.

And I was furious with Yurio for making Yuri feel like that.

We lost him entirely after that; the reporters - all wanting their scoop of why Yuri Plisetski, who won the Grand Prix Final at fifteen by setting a World Record, had done so badly - couldn't find him either. That was a relief, in a way. We all split up looking for him; Yuri found him at Yakov's apartment, packing a bag. Yuri said the boy said nothing, just stuffed a single change of clothes into a backpack with his toothbrush, and left a note in English. He checked into the Star, and paid the Reception staff to not tell any of us his room number. Yuri had to talk Yakov out of banging on every single door to find him. " _I'm his coach_ ," Yuri had to say. Even Yakov seemed somewhat taken-aback by the quiet, uneasy but true reminder.

Yuri and I went back, and he quietly cried himself to sleep, muttering again and again that he had screwed up. I couldn't comfort him; I felt like  _I_ had failed too, so to say otherwise would be a lie. It would be a lie; Yuri always asks when he wants to hear the lie anyway, and that night he didn't.

In the morning, Yakov sent me a message saying that the plan was good to go. That made Yuri feel a bit better; he could do something to maybe make this right. It... didn't make me feel better at all.

Nor did attending practice for the exhibition gala. Yurio didn't show up.

As the Bronze medal holder, he was expected to do his exhibition piece. After their success in Hasetsu at  _Onsen On Ice 2_ , Yuri and Yurio performed their synchronised  _Shelter_ program at the NHK. No elaborate costumes, Yuri didn't even slick his hair back, just wore navy blue trackies with Yurio in matching red, but with two very specific distinctions; on the back of Yuri's jacket was emblazoned a single word in both Japanese and English:

コーチ  
Coach

Whilst Yurio's...:

学生  
Student

For Rostelecom, we all agreed that I should take Yuri's place, and so he taught me the program. That was an experience... he'd never had to teach me something from scratch like that. Everything we had ever done over the last few years had been collaborations, even when I took on  _History Maker_ and  _You Only Live Once_. It was... humbling. Yuri was an exceptional teacher. Even forgetting how much he means to me... I listened. It was funny; when we got to a point where I had memorised the program, he sighed with relief. Yuri said he kept having to pretend that I wasn't... well, that I wasn't  _me_. He had never imagined that he had anything to teach me.

Oh Yuri... you have no idea.

Anyway, between Yurio and I, we restyled the program. Where once the idea was always that Yurio was following Yuri's lead at all times, copying his teacher, we made Yuri invisible, like we were both copying him (which of course, we  _were_ ) and competing to be the better. We downgraded the quads - not because neither of us could perform them, don't be so silly - but in recognition that we would never achieve the same affect that Yurio had achieved with Yuri, the pair completely in sync in Hasetsu. If we were going to skate like we were competing on the same ice, we couldn't properly judge the distance we would safely need to do synchronised, competitively-minded toe-loops.

At least, this had been the plan. Because Yurio didn't show up to the practice, we had no idea if we were still doing it. Because he wasn't there, I stayed off the ice, just in case. It would raise too many questions as to why  _I_ was practicing alone.

I laced up anyway, hoping... hoping more for Yuri's sake. Yuri was trying to convince himself that Yurio would come - he would never pass down a chance to skate. I wasn't sure anymore... I wasn't even sure if I  _wanted_ Yurio to show up...

... but he did.

I could see that he hadn't slept. There seemed to be even less of the boy we once knew than I had yet to see. I was about to skate with the ghost that stood at Nicolai Plisetski's grave six months ago. My anger fled the building, ashamed of itself. "Victor..." His voice was raspy, like he had spent all this time crying, and I was the first person he had actually spoken to since... I didn't remember the last time I heard his voice. "Let's just get this over with." And he headed out, not once looking at me, at  _us_.

I turned to Yuri, silently asking for advice. Would it not be better, perhaps, to call him back, make our apologies and call this off? Yuri watched Yurio's back disappear into the dark, the ice ready to start, and then turned back to me. He didn't know, but it was too late now. I sighed, and sent him the best reassuring smile I could muster, to tell him I'd do my best, and leant in to kiss him softly, glad that the lights were off for the gala.

I remember how we found  _Shelter_. It was around the time that Yuri started introducing me to some of his favourite anime shows, which meant that my Youtube had started filtering recommendations. It was amongst them, and I clicked on it out of curiosity. The video is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen; when the truth of the tale is revealed, I was shocked to find myself in tears. When I came to think of my Free Skate that season, my last season, that feeling kept echoing back. I found a piano and violin rendition, but it was too closely tied to the heartbreak. Then I came across Nathaniel Keith's orchestral, reimagined version, a far more triumphant and powerful expression, and it was easy.

It was about  _agape_ , you see. But not the unconditional love of God... something far closer to home.

When  _Shelter_ began to play, and both Yurio and I raised our right hands to click our fingers to a steady beat, to synchronise, I thought of Rin, and changed the program.

Yurio was skating like... like a automaton. He knew this choreography back to front, because in Hasetsu he had been so proud of it he'd forgotten to pretend otherwise. He unwittingly admitted that he was already familiar with the music when Yuri had suggested it, who had been working on choreography to the original track already, and I realised that he must have researched it when I performed my Free Skate. But in Moscow... his skating was empty. He was just following the motions. So, instead of him following my lead, or competing, I followed his. I skated with all the agape I could summon, and directed it towards my charge moving lifelessly only a few feet away, hoping that if he didn't hear me, Yuri would.

 _Oh it's a long way forward_  
_Trust in me_  
_I'll give them shelter like you've done for me_  
_And I know_  
_I'm not_  
_Alone_  
_You'll be watching over us_  
_Until..._

Apparently it's both the worst and, to some, the best I've ever skated. I was so distracted, watching Yurio, my own skating wasn't great either - almost the entire program is one long step sequence, broken only by the odd jump and spin and flare - but no one ever blamed me; my message was clear. I even stopped to watch, praying to God, when Yurio automatically launched himself into the quad, forgetting he wasn't with Yuri. He fell, and I was already catching up with him, helping him back to his feet, and I skated ahead, coaxing him to follow me. We passed straight over where the other quad would have been, just kept going. When it ended, with what was once his signature combination spin, I had to cut out of mine fast when I realised he was about to fall then too, dizzy. When the music drew out that last violin, we'd already stopped, and I was half carrying our boy back to solid ground, back to the dark, where Yuri and a pair of medics were waiting.

The audience was silent for a long time. Then, someone started clapping. They were joined. Within a few awkward seconds, the rest were all clapping too, but there was no cheering. There was nothing enthusiastic or celebratory. Merely... respectful.  _Funereal_. I've never seen that before.

Yakov stayed with me when I took off my skates, Yuri going ahead with the medics; Yurio had passed out from exhaustion. The boy hadn't eaten since... since his favourite cereal the day before? He probably hadn't slept properly since then either. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_... he should never have... _ugh_...

We were back to where we had started. Yurio was once again silent and numb. Except I had realised something on the ice. It was something I had known already, consciously, but not properly appreciated, not had an emotional response to...

We were in Moscow, where his grandfather had lived. His grandfather who was dead... who would not pick him up from the airport with pirozhki, katsudon or otherwise, would not be coming to watch at all, would not be watching on the TV. His apartment had been long sold, and belonged to someone else, and no amount of visiting it would bring him back. Nicolai was gone, was not going to be coming back, and Yurio had no one left.

There was an enormous distance between thinking this... and  _feeling it_.

Yuri and I could do all we could; we could remove him from a place that was causing him pain through daily reminders of Nicolai's absence, take him somewhere he could forget for a while and find another family of sorts who could fill some of the void. We could get him to re-embrace his passions, put him on a path that took him forward. But no matter how much we cared about him, no matter how much the Katsuki family treated Yurio like he was their adopted son... we were not his grandfather.

What Yurio needed was his grandfather back. It wasn't anyone's fault that nothing could compare. I was angry that such suffering had befallen my friend, my little brother from the ice; if Nicolai could choose, I'm sure he wouldn't have picked to go just yet. I didn't believe in Fate, or some higher power that made such a cruel decision. Yet I was angry anyway, like it was a deliberate machination of the universe. I couldn't do anything with that anger, because no amount of reasoning would undo things, would mean that Nicolai hadn't died. I needed to stop being angry with Yurio for continuing to suffer, and I needed to realise that that was what I was doing with my anger that I couldn't direct at something... he would never have picked this either.

So I was hoping with everything that I had that the plan would get us out of square one again.

Despite being warned otherwise by the medics, Yurio attended the banquet. Part of me was surprised; part of me wasn't. He was following his feet. The exhibition followed the free program. The banquet followed the exhibition. Leaving would follow the banquet. Maybe somewhere in his head he felt that if he went to the banquet, it would expedite the end. Tellingly, he wore a black suit. It still didn't fit him properly; he was still skinnier than he had been after his growth spurt.

I had a bag with a change of clothes for him hidden at Reception. He sipped whatever Mila put into his hand - water only - and she steered him away from everyone who was stupid enough to approach. Yakov got a call that we had been expecting, and he frowned and reiterated that yes, Katsuki Yuri was to be given access to whatever he needed, never needing to remind the caller who they were speaking to. It reminded me of when Yuri was in hospital in St Petersburg; he made things happen.

I'd stepped out earlier and called Yuri, needing to hear his voice. He had gone on ahead, needing time to prepare. I wanted to be there with him for that, but I had my own part to play. I had to get the deadman who walked to follow me.

Which he did, but only because Mila steered him to, and he didn't have the energy to fight us. When he came out, in jeans, boots, his blue jacket over his Team Russia hoodie, Yakov was waiting with us. He nodded, approving, and likewise steered Yurio to the taxi with me. The boy looked a little alarmed when he realised neither Mila nor Yakov were coming, but then he sank into his seat, giving in. He shut his eyes for a while, and when he opened them again, he peered around with slowly growing alarm. But not because he _didn't_ know where he was...

"Victor... where the hell are you taking me?" In English. This conversation was just between us, not the driver too.

I peered over at him in the tiger light - orange streetlights and darkness. I knew from the look on his face that he knew exactly where we were going, and he hadn't made up his mind if he disapproved. So he was going to be a little shit about it until he decided, or until he couldn't muster caring anymore. I found that... I was so tired. I didn't care either. We were past that point now. I didn't answer, thinking.

I was having to admit to myself that we should have been tougher with him all along. Yuri and I had tolerated and been amused by Yurio's tantrums and sulkiness, had been respectful when he needed silence and space. We should never have barged in and made noise, and we didn't, but... we had banked too heavily on... on _time_ , and on Yurio's Free Program being his outlet, that he would talk when he wanted to. We didn't mind if it was to us, or to Yakov, or Otabek, or Mila, or Yuri's family, or if he asked to see a professional. (That's not true... I would have minded, so would Yuri, but that wasn't important. We cared more about what was best for our little brother than our own egos.) We had hoped that time would do what it's said to do, and heal, but... what fools we were. Yurio would  _never_ have _wanted_ to talk. And we had run out of time.

"Where's Katsudon?"

I narrowed my eyes. Neither Yuri or I gave a damn about the harmless nickname, but using it meant something to all of us. Getting Yurio to change it was meant to be a way of marking respect for Yuri as his coach, a way of saying, 'I am your friend, but I am also your coach. For the ice, pay attention to what I say'. Not calling him 'sensei', even though Yuri wasn't there, was deliberate. And  _unwarranted_.

I wanted to say... You earned that Bronze medal yourself, Yuri Plisetski, not your coaches.  _Wear it_.

"He's waiting for us there."

The irritation on Yurio's tired face disappeared in a blink, replaced with... why did you look afraid, Yurio? Anything left of my anger melted away, and I sighed. I smiled and reached out, pulling his hood over his head, just because. I was still bad at this. I had learnt how to keep Yuri standing when he was struggling. I didn't know how to do that with the other Yuri.

I had spent the summer with Yurio in the gym, spotting him. I had cycled around Hasetsu to pace him as he ran. I had timed him on the steps. And the whole time, I had been thinking of... oh god... I had half been thinking of colour schemes, of furniture, of budgets and day-to-day things. I... if I hadn't have thought of those things, it... I don't think things would have been... crap, how do I put this...

Yuri and I didn't have to stop living just because Yurio wasn't. How in the world would that have helped? But I should have thought more of the young man that I was training, more than just his regime or his diet or his times or his weight or fat-muscle mass, or vague curiosities of what drove him to work hard, too easily and grumpily distracted by the errands we went on. I was angry with myself too. It hadn't been because I didn't care about him. It was simply... because I was putting off this.

We arrived. I paid the driver, thanked him and got out. I held the door open and waited. It took a moment for Yurio to follow. I can imagine that if he hadn't been staring at the facade of our destination, he would have stared after the cab, longing to still be in it, fleeing the scene.

Vashasudba Skating Rink was a shadow of whatever it might have been; surely it wasn't built this way. Despite skating for nearly all my life, I had never heard of it, never skated here, despite having competed all over Russia. But nevertheless it was still open, and still had a class for young children, and over a decade ago Nicolai Plisetski brought his very young grandson here to take his mind off his mother being gone. It was where Yakov Feltsman discovered him, and invited him to come to St Petersburg to become an elite junior figure skater. I doubted Yurio had come back since. In fact, I knew just by looking at him that he hadn't.

The door opened with a loud creak - the hinges needed oiling badly - and a middle-aged man stuck his head out, looking nervous. I smiled in greeting and spoke in Russian. "Ah, good evening! You must be -"

"Da." Was the gruff interruption. "It's late."

I kept the smile on my face. "I know, I apologise. But -"

"I was in bed."

My smile hardened. The man's rudeness made me sympathise less, but very specifically the look he was giving me made the rest of my sympathy curdle. I knew that look, though I had been familiar with it for only three years. This man knew who I was, was a fan of my skating... but he wasn't a fan of the ring I wore under my coat. The type who would have asked for my autography with great enthusiasm when I was ambiguous and publicly in the closet, but would rather I went back in now that I refused to make secret that I was in love with another man. Also he was the type who wouldn't put up a fight, but would be a spiteful nuisance. Since we had arrived in Moscow we had encountered people like this, even officials. Thankfully, they had all been people clever enough to realise that if they actually showed discrimination, particularly against the likes of  _Victor Nikiforov and_ Y _uri Katsuki_ , they would regret it; Yuri and I had our allies, and sport in Russia suffers enough boycotts. As if it hadn't been strange enough at Pyeongchang, competing as an Olympic Athlete From Russia without my country's flag or anthem.

I raised my head up. "I believe Yakov Feltsman asked for you to expect us."

The old manager twitched at the name and reluctantly nodded. He glared at me openly then, but by then I wasn't smiling anymore, and then he went to stare with open awe at Yurio behind me. I have no idea what kind of expression Yurio had precisely then, but the old man flinched and finally opened the door wide enough that I could step forward and catch it. I held it open for Yurio, and was surprised as he passed.

He was furious.

"Victor," he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl as we walked through. "Put your ring back on."

I wasn't sure I heard him correctly; I stared at amazement at him. He ignored me, ignored everything really; his eyes were on the patches in the carpet.

Yurio is not... liberal. I would say that he doesn't actually have his own opinion on LGBTQ+ Rights. I had heard him say derogatory things about others before, when we used to train together under Yakov and he was a Junior, but he said derogatory things about plenty of people. I knew that he'd had an inkling that I wasn't straight - his lack of surprise at my flirting with Yuri when he first came to Hasetsu said as much - but... he thought less of me for picking love over the ice anyway then. The fact that Yuri was... well, an overweight, bespectacled Japanese skater with performance anxiety issues, just made him all the more incredulous. Maybe he would have understood it better if Yuri had been a woman... who knows.

It helped that Yakov did not and has never cared about his skaters' sexual orientations. He has never asked, but he has always known, and he has never done anything differently once he did know. The only thing he cared about was that partners must support his skaters, not impair them. When Yurio was still a Junior, one of the women skaters under Yakov's tutelage was outed as a lesbian. When the press asked if Yakov was going to keep her on, he had a very simple answer straight off the bat.

"Who she, or any of my skaters, sleeps with is not my business. What _is_ my business is that she's going to win the Nationals."

She did, and retired soon after, as quietly as she could. My last affair with a man ended around then, turned off by the way she was treated by her fans.

I let Yurio pass as I took my ring off its chain and put it back on where it belonged. I had found the white tan band comforting, but not as comforting as the real thing.

Or as comforting as seeing my Yuri on ice.

He was wearing his Team Japan jacket, because even though he was warmed up it was bitterly cold; the windows were broken, badly taped over and the breeze bit harshly. He spotted us and skated over. I met him at the barrier, kissed his sweaty cheek. "You alright?" I whispered gently.

He nodded. "Hmm." He smiled at the sight of my ring and took off his left glove, held his hand up. He had put his back on too. "The manager has been avoiding me. I don't think he realises that I know enough Russian to understand him..."

I frowned, but Yuri shook his head.  _Forget it_ , he silently told me.  _We have more important things to focus on_.

We did. I turned to Yurio.

He was staring at the broken windows in dismay, at the rust on the stands, at the barrier door that had fallen off and had been lazily abandoned next to the gap. His voice broke when he spoke. "W-Why did... why did you two bring me here?"

Yuri waited for Yurio to meet his eyes before...

"This was your grandfather's local rink. I want to show him something."

He unzipped his jacket and handed it to me. He was wearing his navy Mizuno top underneath, frayed now. He'd worn it when he did his rendition of  _Stay Close To Me_ , and wore it because age had made it soft and comforting, even though it had lost its shape. He fished the remote for the music out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me, squeezing my hand. We shared a smile before he skated away to the centre.

I gave him a moment to breathe. Yurio held his.

Then I pressed play.

After a moment, the euphonium of Kumiko Oumae played out on crackly old speakers, making the brass even more... naked. Yuri looked up, and -

Oh, the difference. As he curled up, foetal, sliding back, there was despair in his face, in the way he wrapped up and disappeared into his knees, the glide backwards smooth. Then the desperate hope as Reina Kousaka's trumpet joined, and Yuri slowly stumbled forward, reaching out. When Ketty's piano and voice called out, he was lost, searching. By the time the rest of the wind ensemble had joined in for the chorus, for the drop, it was clear that whatever he'd been looking for... he'd never find.

As he landed every jump, perfected every spin, missed not a single step, lunged, glided, and took our breaths away, something else had found him.

Katsuki Yuri, a retired champion and world-class choreographer and coach, skated Yuri Plisetski's Free Program without compromise, without holding back, without changing a thing... and had there been a judge, he might have reset his own world record.

I looked away once. Yurio's hands were trembling on the barrier and he made to run. I seized him, held him in place. " _Victor -_ "

" _Just. LISTEN._ "

"What...?"

Stop looking. Listen instead. Listen to what Yuri was trying to tell you. To what he knew you'd been trying to say all this time, and couldn't because it  _hurt_.

Listen, because no matter how much we wanted to, we couldn't stop it from hurting. Listen, because we really wanted to do all we could to help you with the pain. Listen, because I could barely see for tears, because it hurt us too, Yurio.

The beautiful piece that Ketty had worked so hard over, that Yuri had struggled to draw out, came to its end, with Yuri stretching out to acknowledge the heavens, tears staining his cheeks, but  _smiling_ so, so sadly. The last note trickled away, leaving behind Yuri panting on the ice.

In my arms, Yurio shook. Then, because he was a long way past the point of words... he  _screamed_.

It did not come out of nowhere this time. Neither Yuri nor I flinched, though it still stung both of us. Yurio gripped the barrier of the rink, on the wrong side in his trainers, and screamed with frustration. With anger. With grief. With things none of us had labels for, with things that none of us will ever properly understand.

But, perhaps most of all, Yurio screamed because this was the skating he had wanted his grandfather to see, and he hadn't managed to do it.

Slowly, Yuri skated over, put his gloved hands on Yurio's bare ones. "Yuri..."

The boy snatched one of his hands away, but only to try to stop the tears leaking. "... Why... why..." I could barely hear him, but I heard him. Why what, little brother? Why did we bring you here to show you what we knew you wanted to say to your grandfather all this time? "It... It's not...  _it's not f-fair_..." I know, Yurachka. We know. None of it was. I'm sorry we brought you there to wrench this out of you, I'm sorry we had to cause you anguish. And I'm sorry if we should have done this instead.

In the conference room that I hid Yuri in, after the Free Program, knowing that Yurio had just squeezed into the Final, Yuri told me that he wanted find a rink to skate the Free Program as it was intended.  _Exactly_ as it was intended. "It... it might shatter him... but... I can't see how else we can get him to listen, to open up..." A tear dribbled down my beloved's cheek, and I let it. "I'm going to tell him I can't be his coach anymore."

I talked him out of it. I agreed with the first bit, though I was wary, but... I messed up so badly when I threatened Yuri the same in Beijing, so long ago now, or so it feels. I should have just asked him, bluntly, what he was so anxious about, and not let him go until he told me. The catharsis helped Yuri, but Yurio wasn't built the same way. It would anger him, no matter how numb he was, and would set him against us. He wouldn't understand what Yuri was doing, as Yuri had when I said I'd resign. Instead...

"... What do you want?"

"...  _Huh_?" Yurio looked up at my husband with furious incredulity, but Yuri just smiled kindly and sadly back down at him.

"What do you want?"

Yurio shook in my hands, like he was gearing up to run. "The  _fuck_ are you asking me that fo-"

"Stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about."

Yurio flinched. Yes... he did know exactly what Yuri was talking about. Good. Say it... please. Yurio's lips trembled. There was nowhere left to run and hide to. "I..." My thumbs rubbed soothingly on his shoulders. It's okay, I told him silently. We've got you. "I... want to... I want to skate like that..."

Yuri and I both nodded. Progress. "Okay. Let's make that happen." Yuri said it gently, eagerly. Confidently. "What else?"

Yurio turned ashen. Come on, little brother. No hiding anymore. "I... I don't..."

I leant forward over his shoulder, and asked in our mother tongue. "What do you really want, Yurachka?"

Something clicked from my Russian. Yuri and I braced. Please say what we've known you've wanted to say all this time.

Yurio looked from me to my husband to the floor. Whatever helps you say it, go on.

"I want... I want..." And he screwed his eyes shut, and whimpered. "...  _I want Grandpa to see me skate like that..._ "

Silence. Yurio started to crack under my hands, under Yuri's hands. We let this wretched truth echo, and then I said another thing that was true.

"Yurio, kīte... I have no idea what awaits us after this life, if anything. But we all know that if he can, Nicolai has a front seat in the VIP section; he won't take his eyes off you. And Yuri and I will gladly argue with him over which of us is prouder of you, even though we know he'll win."

He started to really cry then. " _I want my Grandpa back... I want him back, I want him back, I want him back - oh god..."_ His knees buckled, but I kept hold of him, kept him upright. He had come a long way from his bedroom floor in Lilia's apartment, he was not back there now. Yuri gripped his hand, tore his other glove off with his teeth to stroke the top of Yurio's head soothingly, something he learnt from me, over the years.

We knew, Yurachka. We knew. I'm sorry that all we could do was hold you.

Slowly, he ran out of tears. Yurio breathed, over and over, slowly piecing himself back together, but naked in soul in this cold place. So we offered more warmth when we knew he could answer.

"What else?" I asked lightly.

Yurio sniffed. He got the game now. "I... I w-want a drink," he hiccoughed.

Yuri and I chuckled. "We'll see about that," Yuri said with a smile. "What else?"

He blinked, soberly. "I want to go home."

"Okay," I answered. I agreed. We had spent enough time in this sad, ghostly place. Time to move forward. "I'll call a cab. That's an easy one."

"No..." Yurio's eyes darted to me. "I mean... I want to go home. To Ha-Hasetsu. K... Kaerou."

That really did make us smile. "Hmm, kaerou," Yuri replied. "There's a flight to Tokyo tomorrow night. We'll sort it. Anything else?"

Yurio raised his head. Just behind him, I smiled. He was rising again. "I want to win the Grand Prix Final Gold Medal."

Yuri offered his hand. "Okay. I'll make you work for it though. I won't let you off easy, then."

I smiled as Yurio took his hand to shake on it. Yuri, stop stealing my best lines. Then I frowned, curious. There was something... Yurio's face... What else did he want, I wondered...

Then he offered a deal, and took Yuri's smile away.

* * *

* * *

Yakov was waiting for us in his apartment. He looked at me, questioning, and I nodded. He nodded back, and seized Yurio in a fatherly hug. Yurio looked shocked at first - so were Victor and I - and then he hugged his former mentor back. Then the great coach invited us for breakfast in the morning at the Star with Mila, and left.

"He could have done that over the phone," Victor griped in a whisper later when we were in bed.

I smiled. "What, hugged him?" And I dodged too late from his pinch at my side.

The heating was back on,  _finally_. I was telling myself that that was why I wasn't sleeping on my favourite pillow. I was staring vaguely at the ceiling in the dark, thinking. Problem was...

I was so tired. I was trying to think, and I couldn't. My brain would start on one thing, and then move on to another without finishing the first. I was thinking about how we would have to pack in the morning and check out. I was thinking about what time we had to check in at the airport. What time we should meet Yakov and Mila. Remembered that we didn't need to check 'out' per se from Yakov's apartment, just clean as a courtesy. I was even thinking about how I needed to practice my axel jump, it felt a little uneven that night. All this, and trying to think about how Victor probably couldn't get to sleep either, because he didn't have me as his hot water bottle. We had gotten so used to it, me sleeping with my head on his chest because of the cold.

I wanted to sleep there, in his arms. Except... my head felt heavy. And... I felt guilty.

"Yuri..." I turned my head to my husband. Oh Victor... you looked so exhausted too. He beckoned. "Come here, baby..." I relented, and curled into him, rubbed my temple against his collarbone, and tried to control my face. I didn't want to think... "Go to sleep, moya lyubov'," he whispered into my hair. "We'll think about it all when we get home."

We... yes. I needed Victor to help me think, _when_ we could think. I didn't want to think about this on my own... I pressed a kiss into his t-shirt, and settled, humming contentedly as he pulled the duvet over all of us.

Yurio was fast asleep next to us. I could see that the hand he had up by his face was only centimetres from Victor's bicep. The sight made me smile; he'd never even bothered to go to the bedroom, had simply stood in the doorway of the bathroom once he was done until Victor had called him over. He'd fallen asleep almost instantly, and looked peaceful now. I hoped it had all worked.

We had offered to take him to see Nicolai's old flat before we came back. He said there was no need; he'd already gone, just as we suspected, and it didn't feel the same anymore. Home was somewhere else now, Yurio said, and then he pointed out where the bus stop was, and directed us back by bus. Somethings you never quite forget, even simple things like a bus timetable and route.

I wondered... if I was to go back to Detroit, would I remember things like that? The exact way from the dorms to the rink, the awkward route to the shop that had the food Phichit bought for his hamsters, because he was fussy about what they ate (but not particularly what  _he_ ate)... I...

... I struggled to picture it. Maybe it was because I was tired. But... it was more than that. Detroit was a life before Victor. Once, it was _him_  who had felt unreal in my life. Now, my old life without him felt unreal, more than just a finished chapter, but an entirely different book. Yet... if anyone had told me that I'd find myself sleeping in a bed in Yakov Feltsman's apartment in Moscow with Victor Nikiforov, seven-time World Champion, decorated Olympian and World Record Holder,  _and_ Yuri Plisetski, a former Junior World Champion and Grand Prix Final Gold Medalist at fifteen... I'd have thought they were the one who's crazy. Yet... there I was.

I fell asleep, for once not doubting what I'd wake to. Victor's heart would beat steady under my ear all through the night. And even though the book I had found myself in had taken a decidedly dark turn... I preferred it. There would be light at the end of it... I was sure of it.

(Victor woke that night because he got too hot; Yurio was curled up again into his side, and my arm was stretched out over  _both_ of them.)

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> So... even though I'd drafted this by hand, it still took a while to type up and finish off. Gomen. I've checked it so many times now I'm going cross-eyed, and I'll be checking it again for more typos and tweak the odd line, as I always do, but it'll do for right now.
> 
> I've yet to explicitly ask you to listen to the music that I reference for this story. Mostly it's because... I find my musical tastes to be very personal; I am always uncomfortable when people ask what kind of music I'm in to. But anyhoo...
> 
> I'm sure by now you'll have noticed that I have yet to divulge what music Yurio's Free Skate is set to. I'm pulling a Victor; I want to surprise my audience! However, the exact piece doesn't actually exist in the Real World; it's a rendition of something else... so I'm afraid I'm setting some homework for you. It's not mandatory, but I hope it will help when I finally reveal what the piece is.
> 
> I'm not going to request that you watch the WHOLE of Hibike Euphonium (or Sound! Euphonium), though I do recommend it. Stunningly beautiful series, oh... But I do ask that you search for the duet between Kumiko Oumae's euphonium and her friend Reina Kousaka's trumpet. It's only a minute and a bit. I also ask that you listen to Asuka's euphonium solo. I want you to get the SOUND of those instruments into your head, along with Ketty's piano in Yuri On Ice, and imagine the three together when I play Yurio's Free Skate for the last time.
> 
> As for Shelter... I hope I've written the above just right so that you won't need it, but I do hope you watch the original video. Not all that long ago, my only exposure to anime was growing up with Digimon and Cardcaptor Sakura, and then Akira and Ghost in the Shell. I don't even know why my Youtube recommended Shelter, but I know that if I had never seen it, I would never have spent the last couple of years watching almost nothing but anime. I would never have seen Yuri!!! On Ice... and this story would never have existed.
> 
> Thank you for coming this far with me. Not over yet. Interlude next, and then into the home stretch...
> 
> Marie x


	18. Interlude - Yu-Topia Katsuki Onsen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so Rostelecom was thoroughly depressing, let's take a break...
> 
> Enjoy ;-)

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

INTERLUDE

October

Yu-Topia Katsuki Onsen

* * *

* * *

Yuri's fingers come to a halt on the keys, and he sighs, all the tension diffusing slowly in his shoulders against me. He saves what he's written, waits a second for me to volunteer anything to add, but at my silence he then closes the laptop. I smile happily as he sinks into me properly, and I tighten my arms round him, press a kiss into his cheek as he hooks one of his ankles over mine, just because.

There's plenty more to write, about Rostelecom, about Moscow. But most of it all happened after we left. We packed our bags, cleaned Yakov's apartment, and met him for breakfast. Mila gave Yurio a long hug; he hugged her back without protest. "I'll see you at the Final," they both told each other.

"Did you miss it?" Yurio asked Yuri quietly, in the Departures lounge at Sheremetyevo later that night.

Yuri looked at him, cluelessly. "Miss what?"

Yurio peered out of the windows, to the busy sight of planes coming and going, filling up and emptying out of people and suitcases and all sorts. "Home. Did you miss it whilst you were in Detroit? You were there a long time, right?"

I looked up, curious too. I knew already that Yuri had missed it without missing it; it took a while for him to admit, not just to me but to himself, that he'd never realised how empty he'd felt without the beauty that Hasetsu unwittingly has. I've been to Detroit, might even have passed him by without ever knowing (unlikely, Yuri tells me. He would have noticed  _me_ ), and it's alright, Yuri has few substantial complaints about it, but it's not home. It's not home the way that St Petersburg is for me, or Moscow is for Yurio. No matter how much time passes or what changes or how much we change, nothing compares with the place one calls home.

"Five years..." Yuri admitted. He smiled unabashedly at his student. "I might have had to redo a year." That didn't answer the question. Yuri's eyes fell on the Aeroflot plane that had just parked at our gate, the one that would take us to Narita overnight. "And I did miss it. More than I knew."

I smiled at that, at the nod that Yurio gave, understanding. "Do you miss Russia?" I asked our charge gently. He was silent. He didn't have an answer. Then...

"Probably more than I know. Don't you?"

How cryptic. Then again... "Probably more than I know too. But... not as much as I thought I would, or sometimes think I should."

They both looked up at me then, surprised. I shrugged. It was true. Home had been, for years now, a person, not a place.

Which is why I can't help but laugh a little. I'm sat in this enormous chair, squished, with Yuri sat snug between my legs, his back cushioned by my stomach and my chest, his temple tucked in against my chin, and he's hugging my arms over him. It's so intimate, so comforting, like being wrapped in a duvet at the end of a shit day at work. I wish I had hugged him when he was chubby! I laugh out loud at the thought.

"Victor?"

He turns a little, gazes over his shoulder at me, smiling already but clueless. I realise that whilst my mind has been unwinding with lighter thoughts, Yuri's mind hasn't been doing the same. Join me, moya lyubov'. "I was just thinking of..." A squeal echoes through my memories to help me explain, but I end up chuckling again. "I was thinking of Beijing."

"Huh?" He twists in my arms, so he's on his side, and my hand automatically reaches out for his ankle to hold him, my thumb rolling circles. "What about Beijing? As in, the Cup of China?"

"Hmm. Do you remember when Chris -"

"- Groped my ass?"

I laugh again, this time at his narrowed eyes. Yuri is not impressed. "You know that I was in the middle of talking to someone when you squealed -"

"- I did not squeal!"

"Yes you did. And I came running."

"You didn't come running, you just -"

I pinch him where I know he's ticklish. A cheat, to win the disagreement. Besides, he's missing the point. I came, dropping whatever I had been talking about with whoever I had been talking to, because even then, before we got together...  _hands off. Mine_. I know that Chris doesn't mind sharing, but I  _do_. Then that same day, I found myself being surprised again and again. When Yuri threaded his fingers through mine, when I found myself unexpectedly forehead-to-forehead with him. Then, after Eros was retired from the ice with a then new PB, he went shy again, but... not that shy. When I found him watching the performances on the TV backstage with Guang Hong and Phichit, I put my arm round him to tease him, and he jumped, having not seen me coming, and then... he smiled, and let me stay. No squeals for me. It made me so happy.

In the present, I grab him, and nuzzle his hair, mostly because I want to, and also to wind him up a bit, and also  _because I can_. He pinches me back. "Cheat," he grumbles, but doesn't stop me. I catch him glance up at me, smiling that particular smile. He has a particular one when he's thinking of how goofy I am. "I do remember. Why are you thinking about that, anata?"

I love it when he calls me that. He's only started calling me that since we got married... and only after we watched Spirited Away, of all things. It's what Chihiro's mother calls her husband, and it stands out most when he's being an idiot. I was so distracted when Yuri called me it the first time, I don't remember what we were talking about at the time. I kissed him a lot after I stopped laughing; he only ever used to call me by my name. Anything else would have just sounded strange on his tongue.

I leant down and kissed him gently. "I was thinking of how far we've come."

Yuri chuckles in my arms then, and kisses me back, lovingly, steadily. When he pulls back to rest his head under my chin again, I catch the look of relief on his face, that one that says he's glad... glad we're on the other side of some tougher times. I kiss his hair... I'm glad too.

My mind drifts. I smile as...

"Do you remember coming home after the Cup of China?"

* * *

* * *

Of course I do... it was  _really, really awkward_.

It was a long journey home, and not even First Class could make it comfortable. Victor looked so guilty, but... in the end it just got annoying. Yes, I was sore, and yes I was struggling to sit for very long because I felt stretched, but... I didn't regret a thing. I just wanted to kiss him again, to wipe that look of worry off his face. Except we were in public, and... because he looked so worried, I... I wasn't sure he wanted me to kiss him.

I was new to it all. Not just... the burn where I had had him inside me (oh my god...) but also... we were back in the eye of everyone, and... I was struggling to decipher where the boundaries genuinely stood; what was imposed by social etiquette, which Victor picked his moments to ignore and respect, and... how we really were.

Were we together? Was he... was he my boyfriend? Or was this... was I about to find out what so many of my Detroit acquaintances had gone through at some point? The lonely walk home. Some of the stories I've heard... even Phichit had a few tales of drunken one night stands that came to a cold, detached end and had hope extinguished without warning in naivety. I'm glad I've only ever known Victor. He has some stories he prefers not remembering too.

I was worried that my anxiety was doing more talking than I was giving it credit. Victor had always been tactile, was this just the last extension of that? I was already trying to put off thoughts of the day when he would be done coaching me... was that about to come sooner because I had finally admitted that I wanted him with every inch of me? The more rational part of me was getting frustrated;  _of course_ Victor wouldn't do that to me. He'd made it clear to me, that very morning even. It was just my anxiety that was forgetting, or discarding those sweeter moments and telling me they weren't real.

Sleeping was a relief. Waking was not, except when Victor woke me. When we finally arrived in Fukuoka International, he picked all of our bags off the conveyor belt, wheeled the trolley himself, led the way to the train station. In the lift to the platform, finally alone, he leant across, pulled my mask down enough and kissed my nose, kept his fingers on my jaw. "Nearly home..."

The doors pinged open before I could respond.  _Kuso_... the train was still busy enough that we couldn't get a carriage to ourselves. Still, I woke up at the gentle whisper of my name, and I found I'd fallen asleep again, on Victor's shoulder. The "suimasen!" tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop myself, and he just chuckled at me. He... he looked happy.

He looked less happy later...

To my shock, Yuuko-chan and Nishigori-kun were waiting for us at the station, with a duplicate of Minako-sensei's banner. It was... nearly midnight by then? I couldn't believe they were there. They had left the triplets at my parents', well past their bedtime. They helped us with all our luggage, and we walked home. In return, we helped load the sleeping Axel, Lutz and Loop into their car.

Makkachin was waiting for us in the lobby. He flew into me, barking like a maniac, even as we tried to shush him. Having knocked me to the floor he jumped into Victor's arms, who was beside himself too, holding the poodle off the ground as he licked his face. The barking made Oka-san stick her head out of the kitchen, where she too was waiting, and she ran to the edge of the threshold to welcome us back. The sight of her... I hugged her. I... I'd won Silver at the Cup of China and I'd been deflowered and I was in love... I wanted to hug my mother. She hugged me back without pause, almost as though she knew. I was too tired to realise she must have seen Victor kiss me, along with the rest of the world.

She helped us take our things upstairs, whispering that Mari-neechan had gone to bed early to do the early start, and Oto-san had drunk a lot of beer to celebrate and was still hungover. And, as much as I love her, she... my mother was in the way, and I only realised it when we got upstairs and were stood outside our bedrooms.

There was absolutely no way that I was going to let her see me go into Victor's room. Particularly as I still had no idea if I was... well, if I was welcome in it. We were home... maybe things would be different now that we were back, now that the Cup of China was over. I didn't know...

So I picked the safe option, and headed to my bedroom. I turned back at the door, to say goodnight, and...

The look on Victor's face. I... my anxiety, having no alternate explanation, gave a simple instruction -  _run_ \- and I was too tired to argue. I close the door... and instantly regretted it.

... Anata... why are we remembering this?

* * *

* * *

... Because of what eventually followed.

I could see that Yuri was struggling all day. But... I didn't know what to say. I'd already learnt that I was terrible at comforting him anyway, so I did as he asked me to; I stayed with him. But that meant that when we got home and he went to sleep in his old room, I had nothing left.

Makkachin whimpered, took a couple of steps towards the closed door, then back to biff my hand with his nose, huffing, as if demanding an explanation. I smiled down at him, and silently told him that Yuri had some things to deal with on his own.

I did understand. I'd taken his virginity... that's no small thing for anyone. And it was Yuri...

Hiroko-okasan smiled at his closed door, then at me. She looked apologetic, like she'd just realised she'd done something wrong. "Gomen, Vicchan. I go now. Oyasumi!" She started to leave, and then paused on the stairs and said one last thing with a beaming smile. "Anata ga kaette ureshī. Glad Vicchan home." And she skipped away.

I was glad to be home too. I was glad to even think that sentence. Home.

I got ready for bed, curled up with Makkachin. With the lights off, and the house still and quiet, I listened out... and frowned. I could hear Yuri... I could hear him pacing.

I sat up, worried. What the... it wasn't the first time I could hear him moving about his room, but usually it was the creak of his chair as he changed position at his desk, or a yawn. Why wasn't he going to bed too? I heard the creak of his bed as he lay down, and tried to ignore the pang of disappointment, and then started when I heard him groan loudly with frustration. I think he said something... but my Japanese wasn't anywhere near good enough to know what he said, and then the next thing I heard was his bedroom door being slammed open. "Oh... sumimasen..." I tried not to laugh. That I did understand. Yuri, did you just apologise to the door for slamming it? Chastened, he was quieter as he tiptoed forward, and... and stopped outside my door. I saw the shadow of his hand, curled up to knock...

"Yuri?"

His hand flinched, and then -  _finally_ \- he opened the door, and ducked in quickly, like he was afraid of being seen. Suddenly I understood, or hoped I understood, the look on his mother's face as she apologised to me. She'd inadvertently cock-blocked her son...

You silly thing. You looked so nervous at the door. "Ano..."

I just stared at him for a moment, and then beamed.  _He was here_... "Hang on." I nudged Makkachin, who woke reluctantly, and got him to get up. I shepherded him to the door, stuck my head out to check the coast was clear too, putting my hand on Yuri's shoulder, just to touch him, and gave Makkachin a shove towards Yuri's open bedroom door. My beloved dog didn't object, and before I stuck my head back in I saw him happily jump on to Yuri's bed. Then I shut my own door, and seized my Yuri.

I'd wanted to kiss him all day, since we'd checked out. It had been a long day. I sighed with relief as Yuri kissed me back, his arms finding their homes around my neck. I grinned into our kiss when he moaned and his knees wobbled, so I bent and lifted him up. His hands tightened their grip on my bare shoulders as I slowly walked us to the bed, his legs wrapping round me as I crawled on my knees across the mattress to lay him against the pillows. Then I collapsed into him, too relieved to stay upright. He mirrored me, holding on to me tightly.

I'd been worried for a moment then... that maybe he didn't want this after all... that he didn't want me too... but then he whispered my name with such longing that I knew. There was a word that I'd heard Hiroko-okasan use, that they all used from time to time that I had figured the meaning of. " _Ureshī_..." I both heard and felt him gasp at the sound of his language on my accented tongue, and he pressed up against me, wanting more of everything.

Yuri kissed the way he skates; nothing held back, honest, and expressive. Incredible, given that his first kiss was only about twenty four hours before... he had learnt quickly. He'd learnt already that he wasn't a fan of the french style, if you will, and I hadn't minded at all when I felt him scrunch his nose up at my tongue tangling with his. I wasn't a fan either, not with him anyway. My experience of it is that kissers can get lazy like that; I prefer the pull of someone's lips on mine, and can think of better uses for our tongues...

I was learning about him too. I knew already that he would kiss me sometimes just so that he could close his eyes, so that he could get lost in the sensation for a moment, and think a little less. For his first and second time, I didn't mind what he needed to do to forget his nerves, but... it hadn't exactly been rushed, but... Yuri hadn't wanted to pause, hadn't wanted to stop, lest his anxiety stole the moment from him.

I had no intention of letting that happen. But... I wanted to savour this. I wanted Yuri to as well.

I sat up a little, turned on one of the bedside lamps, and took careful stock. He was wearing an old black t-shirt, boxers. I was in just long pyjama pants. But more importantly... he had his hands on my shoulders, and they had tightened their grip since I'd sat up, and even though he looked nervous there was no denying that... he wanted more.

Good. I smiled, leant down and kissed him again, and whilst he was distracted I gently unhooked his legs from where they were still around me, and broke our kiss to straddle him instead, returning to kiss him to shut those wide eyes again. I kissed him until he had melted under me, until he was mindless, so that, even though he was allowed to, he wouldn't stop me.

I trailed kisses from his lips down his jaw to his ear, and whispered, choosing my words very carefully. "Don't take your eyes off me..."

I could see Yuri's eyes widen with alarm on his profile, and I chuckled, and waited for him to turn his head enough that his eyes met mine, and he nodded. I smiled, and made a start.

I pressed a kiss at the edge of his jawline, ghosted my lips down a couple of inches. At his pulse, I sighed, and caught him as he jumped, my breath sensitive on his skin, and he gasped out, breathing hard. I grinned before kissing him in the same spot; he was already so turned on, with just a sigh. I got to his collarbones, ran my hands up under his t-shirt to the back of his shoulders to massage the tension away as I kissed on the other side. I paused, punishingly as he dipped his head back, and continued again when he remembered my request and looked back down at me. I smiled as a reward, kissed his lips quickly as a bonus, and then carried on.

I kissed all the way down his right arm, not moving to remove it from where he held me, twisting to reach. At his hand on my shoulder I took his fingers, kissed his knuckles, and then slowly stretched his arm up, buried his hand under the pillow, sent him a look. _Keep it there_ , I silently instructed. He nodded; he'd always been, more or less, an obedient student.

I did the same to his left arm, and grinned down at him when I hovered back over him, holding both his arms over his head, stretching him out under me. Yuri was flushed, breathing heavily, trying and failing to keep still, even after all I'd done was that. I let him reach up and kiss me, and kissed him back as I trailed my nails over the sensitive skin of his under arms, catching his bottom lip with both of mine as he gasped and moaned. I kissed him again after I pulled his t-shirt off, to soothe. Yuri, we'd been naked together plenty of times before, yet he still looked nervous being half-naked.

I kissed his chin, straight down his neck, further down his torso, down the line between his ribs, veered off... I kissed his right nipple gently, caught him as he bucked automatically, closed my eyes as he moaned as I pebbled it with my tongue, sucking tenderly. I left it with a gentle kiss to the tip, and then did the same to his left, running my hands over his sides, feeling the bumps of his rib cage. So skinny... what would this have been like if we'd done this months ago, what would Kobuta-chan have felt like beneath me? He still had faint stretch marks over his toned stomach from where he'd gained and lost weight so quickly; I ran my fingers or my tongue over every one, in thanks for how hard he had worked, though I wanted him badly then anyway.

He still smelt of the shower gel from the hotel in Beijing.

I sat up on my knees, backed up off his hips, and looked up at Yuri for permission, my thumbs hooked into his shorts. He looked wrecked already; I knew I was going to find him hard, his shorts tenting high. His eyes met mine, and he swallowed... and then he lifted his hips up. My eyes widened... and then I stopped hesitating and accepted his invite. There was an awkward moment as he bent his legs up so I could tug his boxers off entirely, and then I dived in.

I kissed where the band of his shorts had left marks on his skin, rubbed my thumbs into his hips bones there too, easing out the creases for a moment. Then I smirked, and took a deliberate path down his thigh, crawling backwards towards the end of the bed, and he moaned pitifully as I avoided where he'd hoped I'd go. Not tonight, moya lyubov'. I dragged my open mouth down his thigh, kissed his knee, smoothed my hands over his leg down to his ankle.

This might sound a bit strange, but one of my favourite parts of Yuri's body are his ankles. I can really only explain by comparing with some of my exes; most of them had exceptionally skinny ankles, nothing but bones and a bit of tendon and some skin, but no flesh, nothing substantial. The type of ankles that you look at and you can't help but think... how in the world do they not snap when you just stand up, let alone walk? Yuri's ankles have never been like that; no matter how chubby he was, or how slender, whenever I went to massage the sore muscles in his legs after a long day on the ice, his ankles felt solid and strong in my hands, unbreakable. Yuri thinks sometimes of himself as fragile or weak... he isn't.

His feet on the other hand... I saw the grimace as we both paused at the bruises from his skates, and the kiss I left just above his toes was the gentlest. I started from there on his other leg, and worked my way back up. At his hips again I smirked before hopping over entirely back onto his stomach, and he groaned with genuine irritation. " _Victor_..."

And before I could even look up his fingers were in my hair, tugging me up. I thought I told you to keep your arms -

"If you're not going to...  _come here_."

Next thing I knew I'd fallen into his lap, nearly lost balance entirely but Yuri reached out behind him quickly to hold us upright, and he was sitting up and kissing me hard. It was his move, so I hardly complained; I dug my fingers into his hair and ground my hips down, drawing out his moan in my mouth, and enjoyed his touch.

Yuri took the lessons I'd been teaching him - that his body is beautiful, that I wanted every inch, that he ought not fear the pleasure I wanted to give him by worshipping his skin - and asked some different questions of me. What would I do if he dug into my spine, from the small of my back to the top, how much would I curl into it for more? How much would I shiver when he ghosted his fingertips over my ribs, over the edges of my abs? How badly would I flinch if he dug his teeth back into where he'd unwittingly given me lovebites on my neck the night before? How loudly would I sigh if instead he kissed the same spots gently, right where he fitted perfectly, the shorter of the two of us? How enthusiastic would I be if he ground his hips right back against mine?

His eyes were already on mine when his hands slipped under my pyjama bottoms over my ass cheeks, and I moaned first before I could get what I wanted to say out. "Yu- _Yuri_... hmm..."

"Hmm?" What a mess you looked, even as you hummed nonchalantly, smiling oh so innocently. You didn't look innocent, Yuri... his hair couldn't make up its mind anymore if it was slicked back or forward, and his lips were shiny from mine. With my pale skin, I must have looked ridiculous on top of you, I felt just as ruined as you did.

"I..." Please don't balk. Please don't... "I want you inside me..."

He froze, aborting the kiss aimed for my collarbone. His eyes found mine again timidly, blinked. Then... "Will... will you show me what to do?"

I almost laughed with relief. I took that kiss he'd been aiming lower, kissed him until he hummed, and finally parted to point to the bedside drawer. "Lube, and condom..."

He turned his head to see where I was pointing, and nodded. He was about to reach out, and then realised that it was too far away; I couldn't reach either. He chuckled, surprising himself with it too, looked back at me, and tugged at my pyjamas. "Take these off for me?"

I nodded, swung my leg off over him and quickly pulled them off as he asked, as he rummaged for what we needed in the drawer. He didn't look as nervous when he came back to me as he had when we separated during sex in Beijing, I think because he was the one with purpose. When he kissed me again, on our sides, it was because he wanted to, not because he  _needed_ to. I felt truly naked when he pulled back, ran his hand so very slowly from my cheek down my torso, his eyes following down my skin.

Before I could truly embarrass myself - even faster than last night, just Yuri looking at me had brought me to the edge - I grabbed his hand and shuffled closer. I kissed him to distract myself from our crotches meeting, and pushed him gently back so I was half on top of him. I realised I was nervous...

I manoeuvred his fingers just so, checking his nails - short, okay - and after we both watched as I smothered them with cool gel, he kissed the first spot of me he could reach - my cheek - before I kissed him back. I carried on kissing him as I directed his hand round the back of me, paused as I lined his fingers up, and...

 _Oh my god_... it had been a while... I'd forgotten how good this feels...

Time went a bit hazy then. Before I knew it, I was moaning into Yuri's neck, and my hand that had been puppeteering his had forgotten its job and was instead digging into the sheets at his side, and Yuri was sliding his fingers in and out of me of his own accord, stretching me perfectly, watching my face carefully, easing every time I winced.  _Yes_...  _da_...  _I wanted more_...

I clambered inelegantly back on top of him, surprising him until he realised how desperate I must have looked. He nodded and grabbed the condom, tore the wrapper carefully open, and... I almost laughed again, he looked like he was remembering sex ed from school. His mouth fell open when he rolled it down on himself, because yes darling, it's very different from demonstrating on a banana, and then his hands went to my hips, holding on to me, ready.

Yuri, you looked so incredible, laid out beneath me, waiting... I took hold of him, and slowly sunk down...

And threw my head back, because  _oh my god it was too much to feel that_ and _look at him_... when I finally got control of myself I looked back down at him and saw he was doing barely any better; his fingernails were trying not to dig into my skin, and he was biting his own lip almost to the point where he was going to draw blood. I swallowed and reached to run my thumb over his lip to stop him and he gasped with relief. He kissed my thumb before gasping my name. " _Victor... you feel... so... feels so good..._ "

I smiled and nodded. "W-Watashi mo..." He smiled back at my Japanese, and then flexed his fingers on my hips. I took it as a signal, slowly rose up, and sank back down again. And again. And again.  _And again_...

That morning in Beijing - had it only been that long? It felt like the day had been a week - when I had moved inside of him, I had let him hide away from me, from my gaze. It was his first time, and it was a lot to process, let alone make eye contact. This time, upright and impaled by him, I didn't want him to look away, and I didn't want a view of just his ear and his hair or the mattress. This time I had all of Yuri in his glory, from the way his stomach contracted from gasping, and the blush that was spreading, and the awe in his enormous brown eyes. I had to close my eyes, cheat, too much, too distracting... then he started moving beneath me too, carefully testing, until we had a rhythm that made my toes curl. I started swearing in Russian under my breath... a tell-tale sign... I stopped, and Yuri whimpered underneath me, his hips still moving, making a cry catch in my throat. I grabbed his hands at my waist. "Get... get on top of me..."

He barely hesitated before nodding, and I leant forward to make it easier for us to roll, and I whimpered too as he fell out of me. My legs wrapped high around his ass, and Yuri settled above me, his weight on his arms, gazing down at me with wonder. We both gasped together as I held his hips and directed him back into me, directed how to thrust in me, and, dancer that he is, Yuri caught on quick.

I was soon lost in the feeling... my Yuri was making love to me... I had wanted this for so long... " _Victor_..." God, I loved it when he said my name like that. My vision refocused. He was starting to shake all over. "A-Are... are you c-close?" I nodded, unable to talk anymore. Yuri gasped for breath, ran his eyes down my body, and I sensed him gripping on to the sheets either side of me. "Touch yourself."

My hand flew between us, and my eyes widened as I realised exactly how close I was. Before I could think, my back was arching and I kicked my feet into Yuri's ass, spurring him to thrust harder, and I was coming so hard I wanted to cry. As his name caught in my throat, mine caught in his, and his arms buckled, his body shaking like an earthquake on top of me. The tremors calmed, leaving Yuri in my arms, trying to breathe.

Hidden behind his hair, I beamed. I'd never been so happy...

He wilted inside of me, and Yuri fidgeted, discomforted. "Victor... what should I...?"

Slowly I sat up with him, wincing as he came out of my body, tugged the condom off of him, tied the knot and tossed it into the bin in the corner. Then I reached for him before I could think otherwise, needing him. Yuri smiled with relief, and willingly settled back into my skin, half lying on top of me again, his forehead against my chin, resting on my shoulder, his arm flung over me. "That..." He shyly lifted his head up so our eyes could meet. He was smiling. "That... that was amazing..."

I smiled back, nodded and kissed him. I wanted to thank him, thank him for saying that. " _You_ were amazing..." I told him.

His smile turned shy, and he returned to my shoulder again. "R-Really...?"

Oh Yuri. Did you miss the part where I orgasmed harder than I had in years? I didn't do that all by myself, it takes two to tango. I didn't say that, of course. I wasn't in a teasing mood then. I nodded against his forehead, kissed him there, hoping he'd look up again so he'd see I was being honest. "Really."

He smiled against my skin, his hold on me tightened a little, and he used the word that he knew I knew. "Ureshī."

I tightened my arms round him too, and sighed tiredly. I felt exhausted, sweaty and sticky. I wanted to go have a shower, preferably with Yuri, but it was late, and... oh shit. Just as I thought that having a shower would probably wake everyone up, it dawned on me that... well, we really hadn't kept our voices down. Even if we had, the bed had been creaking loudly too... My eyes fell down to Yuri, wondering if he was realising that his family might have heard...

But his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. "Victor... what happens now?"

"Hmm?" Now, as in... the shower because we had made enough noise already? I moved my head a little so I could see his expression, and realised what he was actually asking. What happens to us, now that we'd slept together.

Yuri was nervous again. I had to be careful. But at the same time... what did I want to happen? I smiled. "I have a suggestion. Want to hear it?"

He blinked, surprised, and looked up at me, curious. I smiled down at him, pressed a kiss to reassure him. When I pulled away, he didn't hide.

"What happens now... is... we're going to get some sleep. A lot of sleep, because it's been a long day. And tomorrow, we'll get up eventually, clean up, get dressed, and I'm going to ask your mother to make you katsudon."

Yuri frowned at me. "But I didn't win gold..."

I shrugged. "You won me. Same thing."

He rolled his eyes and I chuckled, kissed him again. He was smiling too. "What then?"

"Hmm... then... Then, let's go out somewhere."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere nice, or fun, or something. Figure that out in the morning?" He nodded. "And then..." I reached out, tenderly stroked his cheek. "Then I want to take you out for dinner. Somewhere nice, just the two of us." His face lit up with awe, tinted with nerves. I could hear the silent question in his head. "Like a date," I answered, confirmed. He smiled then, touched. Please don't tell me I was the first to ask you out on a date as well. "Then..." I paused. I knew what I wanted after that, but... I brushed his hair off his forehead. "What do you want to do after that?" I asked quietly.

His eyes widened, and his breath caught. I tried not to flinch. He wasn't the only one scared that his heart was at stake. He swallowed, and tried not to croak. "Can... can we let Makkachin sleep in my room again?"

I tried, and failed, to not smile. I knew exactly what he meant but... come on, Yuri. You could do better than that. "That depends. Where are you going to sleep?"

The corners of his mouth twitched, recognising that I was teasing. "H-Here... if that's okay..."

I beamed, and tugged him closer. I kissed him again, twice, thrice. "Yuri... listen to me. You can sleep here, with me, any night,  _every_ night... okay?" Then I put every card I had on the table. "You're my boyfriend... right? That's what boyfriends do."

He looked at me blankly then. Like his brain genuinely did not have the means of processing what I had just said. Then... he hid his face from me, but I could still see that he was teetering on the edge between crying and smiling so widely it broke his face. The latter won, and he looked back up at me and nodded,  _happily_. "Hai. Right."

Yuri kissed me so perfectly then. I folded the duvet over both of us, and cuddled him to my chest the whole night, trying not to laugh at the pair of us. It only took us... well, for Yuri, seven months to get to where we finally were. For me, it had been nearly a year since Sochi. It was the most patient I had ever been in my life. It was worth it.

* * *

* * *

"... And look at us now."

The inevitable has already happened, and my husband lies sated next to me in our bed. Our clothes are mostly around the bed, but our shirts are still by his chair in the office.

I do remember. Victor did everything he had suggested; I woke very late that morning in his arms, feeling like I would have loved to go back to sleep again, were it not for the sight of him. He was replying to messages on his phone about why he'd dropped his 'single' status on Facebook. Chris was the only one Victor sent a genuine answer back to; Victor showed me his message.

> CHRISTOPHE  
>  Photos please, or it didn't happen ;-P xoxo

Victor turned to me with a wink. "Pretend to be asleep for me?"

"Umm..." I closed my eyes again. I felt him press closer to me, his arm round me tighten, and heard the click of the camera on his phone. I opened my eyes again, and squinted as he showed me. I... well, I just looked asleep, and Victor... was smiling. He looked so happy... "Did... did you send it?"

He looked at me with surprise. "Not yet. If you don't like it, I won't send it."

I did like it. It... it made it feel that little bit more real. It occurred to me later that, whilst it was only a selfie, we were both obviously naked and there was nothing covering the love bites all over our necks, and my hair was a mess, and Chris' reply summed it all up.

> CHRISTOPHE  
>  X-O

I sympathised.

I slowly drag my satisfied body over Victor's, pressing kisses where I can, until I'm fitted in my favourite place, tucked into him. "Anata... what was the point of that story?"

He chuckles. "Other than this?" I pinch him, and he giggles. Then he sobers, runs his hand over my back. "Remember the first time I touched you when I came to Hasetsu?"

Of course. You ran your hand over my wrist to mine, lifted my chin up, asked me a whole bunch of very personal questions, and I steamed up like a kettle and ran. "Is the point of the story that you have no concept of boundaries?" It's my turn to be pinched, but like him I giggle too.

"Baka. The point of the story is how far you've moved your boundaries for me. I love you for that."

... Oh. Even now, I'm still not used to hearing him say that. I don't want to get  _used_ to it. "I love you too. You didn't give up on me."

Victor hums happily. "Like I said, you were worth it."

You too, anata. You too.

(It turned out Mari-neechan had fallen asleep with her sound-proof headphones on, and didn't hear a thing. Oto-san sleeps like the dead. Oka-san however... giggled when Victor asked her to make katsudon for his champion. Ē to...)

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, I need to go back and edit for the typos... I wanted to get this posted by the end of the weekend before I go back to work... sigh...
> 
> So, got some news...
> 
> I'm re-naming Emma, and expanding it. It's only going to be a collection of one-shots within this universe, but... I've realised that this is the last Interlude for Everything On The Ice... and I've got a few more ideas that aren't going to fit into the rest of the narrative.
> 
> Please keep an eye out for Seasons.


	19. Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, sorry for the hiatus!
> 
> If you haven't already read it, I recommend you read the second instalment of Seasons (formerly named Emma) before you read this. In fact, if you're reading this and you haven't read everything that came before it... well, kudos to you for following anyway, but you will need to have read The Draft.
> 
> And what follows has been planned from the very beginning.

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 14

December

_Black_

* * *

* * *

I wake this morning alone, barring Sobachin at my feet. She is already looking up at me when I open my eyes, and she shuffles up the bed for cuddles. She dislodges the note Yuri has left on his pillow.

Gone to practice.  
I love you.  
x

It's a paper note, not a message on my phone. A message on my phone always means he's waiting for me to read it, hopes I'll reply, hopes I'll join him, because a message deserves an answer. A note says... 'I've gone for some time alone. I'll see you later'.

The 'I love you' tells me that he's gone because he's nervous about something.

So am I. So I procrastinate.

I go for a run. The sun is out, and though it's early it's already warming up. Sobachin sniffs at the flowers as she follows. When my legs have had enough, when I know I've pushed my knees far enough, I head home and feed her. It's routine, because usually I'm up before Yuri. It's his job to sort out dinner for her.

I stretch, put coffee on, shower. I remember that I bought croissants ages ago on a whim and then stuck them in the freezer; I stick them in the oven, because I feel like it now. I chuckle at Sobachin when she sits obediently at my feet, hoping to be treated to my breakfast. No, Soba, the puppy eyes works on Yuri some times, but not on me.  _No_... (... go on then.)

I open up the ballet studio doors, take a deep breath and smile. The garden is sort of coming along; it's been gutted of weeds and everything has been trimmed right down, ready to put in... well, we're not sure yet. It's our next domestic project, though I suspect that might have to wait a while longer. There are a few things on the back burner, and Yuri and I have differing opinions about which ones we should be delaying.

This however... I groan. I collect my laptop and head outside on to the veranda, sit at the table we put out there. I groan again; kuso, I left my coffee inside. And it's bright already, I need sunglasses. And...

Enough. I've procrastinated enough now... wouldn't you say, Soba-chan?

Ooooh, what's that grin on your squishy face?! Is that a 'yes, Victor's stalled long enough', or is that a 'can I have some more food and walkies'? Or is that a 'nope'?

Wait... you're right. It's  _my_ memoir -  _our_ memoir - and if I want to procrastinate, I'll procrastinate!

So...

* * *

* * *

We got back to Hasetsu in time for Yuri's twenty-seventh birhday. We dropped off Yurio at Yu-Topia, into the loving care of Hiroko-okasan, picked up our Sobachin, and Nishigori gave us a lift across the bridge with our luggage.

"Is Yurio-kun okay?" He asked, sounding fatherly. "Axel, Lutz and Loop are almost glad we didn't let them go to Moscow."

Yuri smiled, more a grimace. "He will be. I... I need to ask a favour though."

Nishigori was already nodding. "For Yurio-kun, mochiron. He's like a son to Yuuko."

Funny thing that one, this tangent. I used to think that Yurio had a crush on Yuuko... if he does, it's more Oedipal in nature than I initially thought. But it was Yuuko who Yurio first started to finally open up to.

Yuri asked Nishigori if he and his wife could take over Yurio's physical training, so that both he and I could focus on his skating. His first session with Yuuko ran late, and when they finally appeared at Ice Castle we said nothing, shocked because Yuuko walked Yurio in with her arm round his shoulders tenderly and he was wiping his face, eyes red, and he said nothing as he stepped on to the ice to warm up.

"Is he alright?" Yuri whispered to her over the barrier. "Are  _you_ alright?"

She nodded, saddened too. She'd been crying as well. "I... I'm fine. He's fine too." And she smiled with motherly warmth. "He was telling me about living with his grandfather as a little boy. Good memories." And she said no more. We didn't push her to tell us. We were just glad that Yurio was talking to someone. With time, he would tell us the same or different stories. He was no longer stuck.

They're his memories though. We shall be keeping them safe. This one however... this one's mine, ours, to share.

The day after we returned from Moscow, I woke Yuri with kisses. He complained at first, for being woken, and then he noticed that I'd already shooed Sobachin away, and stopped complaining as I took my lips and my mouth and my tongue south.

After, when he was ruined beneath me, I swallowed and righted his clothes, trailed kisses back up his body, and giggled at the sated look on his face. "Otanjōbiomedetōgozaimasu!"

"... Huh?"

I laughed. I don't get to practice that one very often, so either the extremely long word was still something I was getting stuck on, or he really was that dazed. "Happy Birthday, husband mine." And I kissed him, long and lovingly, until he started to curl and wrap himself around me. I shook my head in our kiss when one of his hands started down my front. "Gomen, Yuri. We don't have time."

"Hmm... why not?" He moaned, undeterred, and I had to catch his fingers before they dipped into my pyjama bottoms and before I didn't have it in me to stop him. "I thought you said it's my birthday... I want to..." His fingers threaded through mine at least, accepting that I'd reluctantly declined.

"Because we've got to meet Yurio -"

"- For training..." And he slumped underneath me, pulling a face. "Why did I...?"

I chuckled. "Because we don't have long until the Final. Your words; every day counts now."

He groaned at the reminder. He looked up at me, apologetic. "Gomen, Victor. I wanted to reciprocate."

I smiled, leant down and kissed him again. "I know. Maybe later."

"Hmm," he nodded, his nose brushing mine, placated. "Have I got time for more kisses?" He was already kissing me again.

I grinned. "You always have time for more kisses. However..." I dug my arms underneath him and sat up with him, and he squeaked in protest, his arms and legs tightening around me as I stood and carried him through the house. "They'll need to be to-go!"

"V-Victor! Put me down! I _can_ walk!"

I stopped, halfway to the kitchen and raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I don't see you trying." His legs were still tight around my waist, nothing to do with me. Were you really complaining, moya lyubov'? He quieted, digging his feet in a little so I could keep going, and I giggled and carried on.

I deposited him on a stool in the kitchen, Sobachin looking up from her basket in the corner, and we both laughed as she jumped up on her hind legs to reach Yuri's lap, getting in between us, like our furry baby. I let Yuri fuss over her - she was helping, distracting him - and poured coffee for us both and... slid across the island his birthday present.

Yuri's hands froze on Sobachin's head, who tried to sniff at the gift. "V... Victor...?"

I walked back around to him, with his breakfast of fruit and yogurt - a habit unbroken since Koh Ai - and kissed his forehead. I was nervous about this one. "I thought it best to give you this now..."

Yuri pulled it - a box, wrapped in blue crepe paper and gold ribbon - towards him, and looked up at me. He's always so awkward when I gift him anything. "Victor... arigato..."

"Just -" I blurted out before he could turn to open it. "I... I got you these before... before Yurio asked what he asked, and... they're not... I don't... I mean..." I stopped, sighed. Stop fumbling, Katsuki-Nikiforov. I smiled at my own head for a moment; it might not be official, but to us our names are double-barrelled like the jackets Yuuko gave us. My head doesn't care about the mouthful. "They're just what they are, okay?"

Yuri blinked at me. Of course, because that still made no sense. But he smiled up at me, bemused, and nodded, kissed me, and reached for the ribbon. And then his mouth dropped open. "... _Victor_..."

The good thing about having been Yuri's coach is that I've known exactly who makes his skates, and the exact specifications for them, for quite some time. So getting him a new pair, ones that I could be comfortably sure would fit, wasn't so difficult. Yuri carefully took one of the gleaming black boots out of the box, and ran a finger tentatively down the blade.

Blue blades. What other colour would I get him? Well, I was tempted to get him gold blades, to match mine, but... Yuri's more modest than I am. The blue, I thought, fitted him  better. They'd go with almost literally everything he wore.

The guards however match my favourite colour instead.

Yuri peered up at me, glasses-less and with hilariously bad bed-hair, and took my left hand and kissed my knuckles. "Spasiba, moy muzh." Then he pulled me in gently, kissed me, wrapped his arms and legs back round me, and I melted into his embrace, relieved. I could tell, by how closely he held me, how much he truly liked them, how much he appreciated them. I was so relieved... we'd given each other some really nice things and some silly things and some beautiful things, but never, never anything to do with our profession. Our skates are the very foundation of what we do; they have to be perfect. I still get mine from the same place I have done for over a decade, in Russia, even though my competing days are over. No small thing these... but I didn't want them to be. It was our first birthday present as a married couple; I wanted it to count.

"They're beautiful, Victor," he whispered to me. "Arigato."

I smiled, rubbed his back. "Try them on when we get to Ice Castle for me?" He was already nodding, eager. "If they don't fit I'll sent them back to be altered. Or if you want something different -"

He was already shaking his head. "No. These are my skates. Come on, I want to try them on and start wearing them in!" And he untangled himself from me and tucked into his breakfast, finally in a rush, making me laugh. I pressed another kiss to his cheek, making him smile on a mouthful of strawberries, and then turned to our fur baby who also wanted food and had been kept waiting for the birthday boy.

Amusingly, Yurio didn't seem to notice until right at the end of the day. He didn't say anything at all, despite the fact that I knew that he knew what the day was. Although... "Oi, Old Geezer! I want to work on the exhibition skate. Let's go."

So Yuri got to skate properly on his birthday, and his new skates fitted better than his old ones. Yurio asked the triplets to film them, film all of us, and put it online. HAPPY 27TH BIRTHDAY KATSUKI YURI!!!, starring yours truly in Yurio's stead, hammering up the 'coach-student' dynamic with my beloved to _Shelter_ , went viral that day. People noticed the skates in the comments; that made me smile.

We went to Yu-Topia for dinner (not for katsudon, Hiroko-okasan made some  _amazing_ food for Yuri. I've asked her to send me some recipes; I'm going to do my best to translate and replicate them) and Yurio dumped Yuri's birthday present - or present _s_ rather - in his lap. Extra thick skating socks, with poodle heads on the ankles, and blue-and-gold laces. I didn't even tell him what I was getting Yuri, hadn't told anyone. I laughed at Yurio's expression when Yuri thanked him; stop-making-a-fuss-they're-only-socks-and-laces-I-had-to-get-you-something-but-they're-nothing-fancy-I'm-not-wasting-my-money-on-shit-so-there-you-go... Coach.

We didn't stay too long after dinner. I carried Yuri's presents - a bottle of champagne from Mari-neechan, a beautiful silk scarf from his parents that matched the colour of his glasses, a collection of t-shirts emblazoned with the Katsuki-Nikiforov School of Figure Skating logo to add to the collection from the Nishigori's, and tickets to Ketty's next concert in Osaka from Minako - and I held his hand as we walked along, not worrying who saw.

I hadn't expected this; after we moved into our home, after we started wearing our newly engraved rings, after we married, we were... different. Not substantially, but... I  _felt_ different. Yuri felt different too, in himself and _to_ me. It felt like barriers that had still been outstanding were gone, dissolved into the ground. We were closer than we had ever been, and in public we were starting to care less about people seeing us together. Moscow had been a stark exception, fearing backlash, but back home... I didn't think twice about touching him in public anymore in Hasetsu.  _Yuri didn't either_ , and of the two of us he had always been the one who cared the most about social etiquette. Not anymore; he didn't hesitate anymore, in his hometown where everyone knew about us.

We might not have been married on paper, were trusting our family and friends to do right by us when that piece of paper might be necessary, and had worked around all other formalities (the house was in Yuri's name, all bills paid out of his bank account, and I just put money into it) but for us... for us, we had told the world that, come the sun of summer and the snow of winter, I was his and he was mine and we were each other's. It felt different, in ways I'm still discovering, still puzzling over, but... it's the most amazing feeling. It just sits calmly in the background, like a heartbeat; constant and warm.

Of course, some things were still restricted to our home. When we got in we pounced on each other, eager to get back to where we had left off in the morning, and just as I had carried him to the kitchen I carried Yuri back to our bedroom. I deposited him on the bed and helped him strip, pulling his trousers and his boxers down as he lifted his hips, took his socks off with them as he pulled his t-shirt off. Fully clothed still I climbed on top of him, kissing him hungrily and then dived for his ear.

"It's your birthday... how do you want me?"

Yuri blushed immediately but then his eyes, through his glasses, found mine, and held. I could see him consider the question... then he put his hands on my shoulders very deliberately, and gently pushed. "Lie back, and take your clothes off for me. I want... I want to try something."

I raised my eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at how quickly he'd jumped on board with this opportunity, and slid off his body to one side. As I started with my own socks Yuri jumped up, went to the wardrobe, and I paused, confused as to why I was getting naked and he was looking for clothes... then, just as my shirt hit the floor and I shivered in the unexpected cold, Yuri turned back to me with an oh-so-innocent smile... and that horrible sky-blue tie of his.

I glared at it, opened my mouth, about to remark that maybe it wasn't his birthday after all, but then... decided against it, and said nothing. Where was he going with this...? Encouraged, Yuri stepped forward, climbed back on to our bed, nudged my knee with his to indicate I needed to move further back. He gave a small nod when my head found the pillows and I stopped, ran my hands up his thighs with a moan when he straddled me, sat upright. He moaned too as my fingers breezed up his torso, and he leant forward into my touch, kissed me temptingly. After his lips pulled off of mine I opened my eyes and met his. He was keeping his glasses on - he usually took them off, worried they would fall off just as he really didn't want to be distracted by such an ordinary thing, but he did keep them on when he wanted to concentrate on something. In this case, it was telling me to follow his lead. I nodded.

He took my hands from his hips, and, threading his fingers through mine, lifted my arms up over my head, to the frame of the bed. My eyes widened as I realised exactly what the tie was for, and looked up as he did to watch him... oh god... tie my wrists together and to the bed frame. When he trailed the tips of his fingers down the sensitive skin under my arms back to my face I moaned pathetically. God's sake... I'd been having sex with Yuri for over three years and still the tiniest of gestures could leave me quivering like a virgin.

He smiled,  _satisfied_ , as my eyes returned to his, but he said nothing. Devil. I understood. How many times, in earlier days, had I laid him out before me and devastated him, telling him not to move so I could show him how beautiful I thought his every cell was? Finally, he was in a position where he was comfortable to do the same. Although...

"Yuri... you didn't need to wait for your birthday for  _this_..." I whispered, making him grin. "Just... just saying..."

We both giggled at that. He nodded, smiling and kissed me, pulling hard at my lips with his, hungry and determined. And then he lowered...

It was a good thing he tied me up. I couldn't keep still... I made some very strange noises when his mouth enveloped me just as I had that morning, and at the edge of my mind I thought... it was his birthday, why was  _I_ the one being pleasured? I whimpered, because that thought didn't help, and I tried to focus on something to control myself - the door. Yabai, we forgot to close the door. Last time we did that Sobachin came in... that was awkward. I was about to say something when Yuri stopped, got off me, closed the door, as though he'd been thinking the same, and rummaged for lube in the bedside drawer and straddled me again.

"Victor..." He opened the bottle and started covering his fingers. "Gomen... I've no patience tonight..."

I moaned, sympathising, and was about to move my legs so he could reach, but instead...  _oh god_... he reached behind himself and pierced himself with his own fingers, nearly collapsing forward, catching himself with a hand on my belly, moaning behind his teeth.

My fists clenched, tugging at the blasted tie... I wanted to touch him... the look on Yuri's face as he fingered himself, prepared himself... I sighed with relief when he sank down on me, trying not to buck into him so early. "V...  _kamisa-_...  _Victor_..."

 _Shit_. I couldn't do anything, but  _give in_. I struggled even to answer his movements with my own, because without my hands I couldn't co-ordinate, so I stopped and just let him do the work. It made me unravel faster, submitting, and I bit my lip.  _No_... " _Yuri, get this fucking tie off of me or I'm going to break it..._ "

Something clicked on Yuri's flushed face and he stopped, falling forward. For a second I wondered if he'd come, if so it must have been a bit anti-climactic, but... he reached up and scrambled for the tie, struggling to regain control whilst he could. His lips seized mine and I moaned happily as my hands found his cheeks. "Victor..." Hmm? " _Onegai_... get on top of me..."

I flipped us over, grabbed a pillow and sat up on my knees and pulled Yuri's hips up, shoved the pillow under him to prop him up over my thighs, pushing back into his body as I bent over him, and his legs wrapped high around me as I thrusted into him. We were both plateauing, sprinting for the edge to fall... Yuri was moaning a mess of my name and the words for 'god' and 'please' in the three languages he knew, one hand gripping my shoulder and the other the bed frame where my hands had been held. I reached and took his left hand from my shoulder, lowered it to our stomachs where he was leaking and desperate, and our wedding rings rolled over his sensitive skin, cooled boiling blood, and then he was coming long and hard until he was drained. I lasted a couple more seconds, caught by the bliss after in his face, and fell forward, nearly crushing him, bending him awkwardly as I begged his name for mercy.

We stayed like that, locked. Then... "Victor...?" All I could do was move my eyes to his face. I was still inside him, still bent under and over him, and his legs were still high above my ass. "I think... we can get rid of that tie now, for... for good."

I was so sated I couldn't even laugh.

We learnt something that night, and when we could finally move and talk and  _function_ so we could clean up, we laughed about it in the bath together. Yuri likes touching my body just as much as I love touching his, but I don't like submitting. Yuri asked if it was about control... It is, but also... I like making him feel good. By being tied up and unable to contribute, participate even, _I_ don't feel as good.

The tie went back into the wardrobe. We had no use for it now, but... I didn't want to throw it away. That tie and I had had a long journey together.

It was going to miss the next hurdle.

* * *

* * *

The scene of the crime is behind me.

I came here to train, and though I'm now warmed up and skating, I... heh. I can hear Yurio in my head.

_Oi, Katsudon! My cat can skate better than that!_

I've got the wrong emotions on the ice, and I'm flubbing jumps because of it, my steps all feel _wrong_.

So... let's write this by hand. Get it out of the way...

I'm wearing the skates that Victor gave me for my twenty-seventh birthday. I -

* * *

* * *

\- felt spoilt rotten.

We came home after Rostelecom, Yurio and I already agreeing to a training regime to get him ready at the cafe in Sheremetyevo, between naps on the long flight to Narita, on the Nozomi. He raised an eyebrow when I started scheduling training on my birthday, but said nothing. He threw that plan out of the window on the day though... I'm not complaining though. It was fun, skating with him that day.

I hadn't given Yurio an answer. He didn't bug me about it, and I was grateful for that, but... it wasn't forgotten. But we did have to brush it to the side for a while.

After spending as little time as we could get away with on his Short Program - as far as we were all concerned, he had  _Who You Really Are_ in the bag, we weren't worried - we turned our full attention to Yurio's Free Program, and we all got harsher. Where once I had let Yurio navigate the narrative of the choreography, the emotions of it by himself, we had run out of time. I... I had to push him to create a dialogue with Victor and I on the ice, and we stripped every movement down and built it back up.

The opening alone... that foetal glide is Yurio's reaction to the news, the trumpet and his faltering steps Yakov guiding him through to get home, and Ketty's vocals and piano Victor and I, taking him to safe ground. Finally, through his skating, Yurio began to reveal the true depths of his shock, his helpless depression, and then the relief as we took the weight off his shoulders. That's all just in the first twenty seconds or so.

The day after my birthday, I dragged Yurio, kicking and screaming, back to the waterfall. He had found something under the water once; I told him to find it again, to swim upstream for it. He wasn't alone; I shoved Victor in with us too, found the worst spot for my husband to punish him for the first time, and... and Yurio admitted he wished Nicolai had been to every event, even every practice. He was angry that it was too late... angry that he was angry... and angry that there had been good reasons why Nicolai didn't attend everything. That anger now propels some of Yurio's jumps; 'why couldn't you be here to see me fly?'

There were many long nights at Ice Castle. Yurio started sleeping in the spare room on odd nights, when it was too late to walk across the bridge back to town. That way we could finish, eat, sleep, wake and keep going. Over those evenings, eating in our kitchen or sprawled on the sofa or even going through movements in the ballet room because he wasn't satisfied with it yet, Yurio finally began to talk. And Victor and I listened, and encouraged, and did our very best to understand.

Victor... was amazing. He attended to our every need, helped us push past every stumble, cheered us on, was our fresh eyes when we couldn't see for the trees. When we went home he ran me baths, made dinner, looked after Sobachin, massaged my aches and tensions out of my limbs and back before we slept, and kissed me when he knew I was flagging, even when I was sweaty and gross.

And I repaid him so badly...

I...

* * *

* * *

I turn back to the ice. It's... it's still...

I messed up. I messed up.  _I... shimatta..._

_I messed up..._

* * *

* * *

The sun disappears behind a cloud, and I shiver unexpectedly. The battery's dying on the laptop.

I bend down, stroke Sobachin's head and get up from the table, taking the laptop with me. I need a break. It needs to charge. I sympathise.

I go to the kitchen, spot the time on the oven clock. Around noon. Hmm. I can tell from the spotless state of the kitchen that Yuri didn't bother with breakfast, didn't prepare lunch either earlier. I wonder... should I?

I turn to Sobachin, who gives a light woof, as though genuinely answering me. I smile. Yes... let's be selfish. I want to see him.

I don't want to think about this alone.

* * *

* * *

I messed up...

I messed up...

I messed up...

"Yuri-kun?"

Īo... gomen, Yuuko-chan... demo... I just want to be left alone... I can't... I can't...

"Yuri-kun? You alright?"

Nishigori-kun... Watashi... īo...

Just keep skating, just keep skating, just -

" _Yuri_."

... Victor...?

The world stops moving, and his arms find me.

"Come on, put your glasses back on..."

His face returns to focus. No... I messed up...

"Yuri."

I... I can't talk... I can't look at him...

" _Breathe_ , Yuri..."

The oxygen tastes cold in my lungs, and I cough wildly.  _Shimatta_... I shiver... I'm so cold...

"Come on, let's get off the ice for a bit. I brought lunch."

Food...? I... I'm not hungry... wait... no, yes I am...

"Good. Don't get your hopes up, I just made sandwiches."

Oh. I spoke aloud. Sandwiches... sandwiches sound good...

"Eat up. Let's get your skates off..."

My laces loosen exactly when I take a bite, and between the ease of pressure on my foot and the food on my tongue, I feel better. I sigh, chew, and let Victor yank my skate off. I can finally see him properly now, as he attends to my other skate. I take another bite, flex my toes, and lean into him as he sits on the bench next to me.

"Better?" He rubs my arm, and frowns. "You're cold... hang on."

I chew on a third bite slowly as he goes and gets my jacket - our School of Figure Skating ones - and wraps it round me, sits again at my side, close.

The food is working. His warmth is working. Victor's working. I thank him for it, my voice barely able to make it above a whisper.

"That's alright, moya lyubov'."

He chuckles. Oh... I know why... he put deep fried pork cutlet in the sandwich... with lots of salad. I've only just realised...

"Oishī..."

Victor presses a kiss to my forehead. "Don't ever say that I don't spoil you," he teases, and I smile lightly. He does spoil me.

I... I don't deserve you...

"Hmm, I'm hungry too," he says, unaware of my thought, and picks up the other sandwich in the paper on my lap and starts munching, enjoying it more than I can. I finally really look at his face.

He looks... drawn... stretched thin. I... I've ruined his morning...

I put the rest of my sandwich down beside me, move the paper, and I turn into him, hugging him. Victor hums contentedly, accepting me, and then again as he realises... this isn't just for my comfort, but for his too. He holds his food carefully above my back, and rocks me gently, and we both burrow in close to each other. I'm not cold anymore.

"How..." I have to stop, clear my throat, try again. "How's the chapter coming along?" I ask quietly.

Victor freezes in my embrace. "Umm... I'm... I'm struggling with it." He pulls back a bit, to face me properly. "I'm so tempted to... to skip it altogether..."

I sympathise. A lot. But...

"... But I don't think that's a good idea," he says for both of us, and I nod, reluctantly. "Is that what brought this on?" Victor asks softly, without judgement. I shrink, and nod again, even more reluctantly. I feel so ashamed... I hate you seeing me like this. "... Yuri..."

I said that last aloud too, didn't I... but I am... I am ashamed...

I messed up...

... Victor... I'm so sorry... Gomen'nasai...

* * *

* * *

It all started long before, but for me, it started when Yuri and I started watching the playbacks the day after his birthday.

We had started by reviewing Yurio's performances looking for the things we needed to focus on from a different angle. Then we focused on the task we had committed to, and studied Yurio's competitors. JJ... in particular.

The Canadian was playing to his strengths that year; it was all about his technicals. He was warming up at Rostelecom, but we reckoned he was gunning for five quads in his Free Skate, three of them in combinations, three also in the second half. With this as a base, Leroy had practically guaranteed himself a spot on the podium.

With Yurio, we were not relying on such ambitions. Yuri and I are both subscribers to the belief that one should solidify one's presentation, and make the jumps complimentary to that, not the other way round. Jumps are exciting and thrilling, yes, but we all fall, even me. One should not rely too heavily on them. Whereas presentation; lack of consistency in the PCS is far more revealing of one's skills as a figure skater.

We had been teaching Yurio this for years, long before we brought him back to Hasetsu. Yuri and I are World Record holders because no one can match our PCS's; my  _lit(var)_ holds the record for the Short Program PCS at 49.12, whilst  _Yuri On Ice_ is described as unsurpassable at 98.68; he broke my  _Stay Close To Me_ personal best and WR; 98.48. Indeed, when Yurio broke my World Record with  _Agape_ , it was with 48.88; he has never come close since.

Yet... Yuri was worried. He was worried that, even if Yurio skated flawlessly... it still wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't beat King JJ.

I knew, though I had yet to reveal this to either, that both Yuri's held a common ambition: they both wanted Yurio to beat Yuri's untouched World Record for the Free Program. Yurio had hinted at it all summer, was frustrated that he was so badly off course, was having trouble believing that it could be possible. Yuri again never said anything so explicitly... but his choreography said it all.

Yuri... has always been modest about his World Record, blushes madly when I point out that the World Record literally bears his name, but he is... also quietly, extremely proud of it. It was his vindication. No matter what happened or will happen, for as long as  _Yuri On Ice_ is the best ever seen, he will quietly be lifted by the remainder that all those years of training, all the tears, all the falls and bruises and injuries... it was worth it. It did come to something. He really was extraordinary, just as he had wanted to be. The World Record was his unequivocal evidence of it, his ultimate evidence against any darker doubts in his mind.

So wanting Yurio to surpass him that year... I don't need to explain how enormous a gesture this was. He wanted Yurio to have that feeling, that knowledge that it wasn't all for nothing.

As for me... I wanted Yurio to win, of course... but I wasn't prepared to give up  _that_ much. Yuri's World Record was a vindication for me too. It will never sit right, the idea that there could be better, even Yuri's own choreography. The ultimate honour and the ultimate diss... So I had my concerns as Yuri started trying to find a way to ensure Yurio's victory, particularly as I could spot the tell-tale signs a mile off.

Yuri was getting tunnel vision. He was struggling to concentrate, and I could tell his thoughts were starting to run him round in circles. He was sleeping badly; he struggled to get to sleep, then he'd wake in the night afraid he'd overslept, and then he slept like the dead and struggled to wake when he needed to. He was having mood swings, getting drawn into despair, turning to sudden, sharp anger at his own mistakes. He was growing distant, even from me. I know you... my dear...

Still, I never saw it coming. I should have done.

After a few days, with about a week to go before our flights, we sent Yurio home - it was long dark by then - and I skated over to Yuri, ran my fingers through his sweaty hair. "Come on, Yuri. Let's go home too, have a shower and an early night." Early for then anyway, I meant.

Yuri shut his eyes. I tried not to feel dejected... I'd been trying so hard to lift his spirits all day, and... no matter what I did, it seemed to make things worse. For some reason, Yuri didn't want me to make him feel better.

Maybe it was best to go on ahead, I thought. Yuri would follow when he was ready.

"Victor..."

I turned back, and my face fell. His face was full of worry, of... no, more than that. Yuri was petrified.

"I..."

"Yuri?" I reached out, but he stepped back. He was shaking. He couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- look at me.

For a horrible, traitorous moment, trying to read Yuri's face, I... I thought... I was terrified that he was going to tell me that which I never wanted to hear from him. You know what. The one thing that you never want to hear from someone you love with every inch of your being. Yuri looked like he was going to tell me he'd done something irrevocably terrible.

"I know how Yurio can win Gold."

I just stared at him for a second, and then I gave a gasping laugh. I was so relieved. Was that it? Oh thank God! But then... why did he look so guilty?

"Will you watch?" He finally looked up at me. My stomach clenched again. I still didn't understand why he was so full of dread.

"M-Mochiron..." I said, and I did. I watched as he nodded anxiously, and skated away from me.

I watched as he sighed, trying to dispel the weight on his shoulders, and then sped up. He circled the rink a few times, effortlessly generating speed, switching seamlessly to face forward, face back. I watched, trying to guess what he was preparing for... a particular move? A hydroglide? A spiral? Or... or a jump? Yuri suddenly cut away from the edge, headed for the centre, where he had the most space. His face... his face was a picture of serenity. He was skating, the cool of the ice calming in his veins... for a moment, Yuri looked beautiful...

Then...  _no_...

I fled as the ground disappeared beneath my feet into darkness.

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to try to keep the wait for the next to a minimum, it has already been mostly drafted. Apologies for the cliffhanger! Be back soon...


	20. Grey

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 15

_Grey_

* * *

_"I don't know how long Victor will stick around or how long my body will hold up.  
_ _So please God... give me Victor's time, even if only just for now..."_

* * *

* * *

"Kaerou?"

I start, look up at my husband's soft, gentle smile, and I bend like a willow. I nod, and he hands me my trainers.

"Come on, moya lyubov'. You need a day off. Been going at it too hard lately."

Victor fusses over me, because this is what he does when he worries. He fusses over me anyway sometimes; since our wedding, we both touch each other more. A hand on a shoulder, a random kiss on the cheek, a squeeze of our fingers, a nudge, even just a poke to say 'hi. I'm bored. Talk to me?'... I love them all. I hated holding back, afraid that he would think I was... clingy or... anyway. I love them all, all these reminders that... that Victor loves me. That I love him. That he's still here, with me.

As we come out of Ice Castle, waving goodbye and thanks to Yuuko-chan, I pause outside the doors, and tug his hand, following my feet. He doesn't object, even though at the bottom of the steps, home is to the right, not the left.

I stare at the bench overlooking the river, in front of the vines and the ninja house. It... it's only been a few years since we both sat there for the first time. I didn't even sit; I was training. I told him about Minako-sensei, about attending her ballet classes and that it had been she who recommended ice skating to me. I denied having a crush on her... it was true at the time at least, though if he'd asked me years earlier... well. It was so... awkward, talking to Victor then. I begged him to stop, didn't I? And he sighed, disappointed at being shut down. I felt bad then, knew I was in danger of alienating him, knew he didn't deserve that. He'd come so far, literally thousands of miles, just to be my coach. I was glad that Makkachin barked and gave me a chance to break the ice.

It was sakura season then, wasn't it? Everything was dusted pink. Now, the leaves are falling, and the world is turning golden brown, like a bite of an apple left out.

Back then I had no idea what I had started. Now... I'm married; we have a home, a family even, albeit a furry one. Sobachin clambers on to the bench and looks at us, waiting for us to sit. Victor goes over to her, stroking her head and looks up at me too, silently wondering if I want to sit down. I find that I do. I sit right next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, and we laugh as Sobachin tries to sit across our laps; she is far too big to do that now, far too awkward, and has been for quite some time, but she forgets and still tries. You're not a pup anymore, Soba-chan. Silly dog.

I already know how stupid I'm going to sound, but I can't keep it inside anymore. I look up at my love. "Victor..."

He looks down at me, wraps an arm round me to hold me close. I wonder for a moment if he already knows what I'm going to say too. It doesn't change anything. I have to say it...

I grip on to him. Kamisama... please don't take him from me...

"Gomen'nasai... Watashi wa totemo bakadatta... I was such a fool..."

* * *

* * *

It's hard to say what was going through my mind back then. I didn't know at the time. But I regretted walking out the moment I started, knew that I was making a mistake as I was making it... I didn't stop. It was instinct. I had to...

I was afraid I was going to scream.  _At_ him. And I didn't know what I was going to scream at Yuri, and the last thing that I wanted to do was scream things that would hurt him, even then. So I turned, skated off the ice, yanked my skates off, stepped into my trainers and left. I didn't do up the laces, or even put my skates away properly; I left everything where they fell or had been.

I felt...  _betrayed_. He... _he lied to me_.  _Yuri lied to me..._

Yuuko's face fell as I marched out of Ice Castle. She'd never seen me angry before.

And I was.  _I was furious. I was hurt and furious and... and..._ and...

I came to myself when I realised I was somewhere I had never been before, and just how cold and dark it was; round the back of the ninja house, when you turn right out of Ice Castle. In all these years of living in Hasetsu I had never had any business going that way; our house was to the left when we exited the rink, so was the bridge leading back to town and YuTopia. I'd turned right because I didn't want Yuri to follow, and I didn't want to be found by anyone for a while.

It... well, it was just a street. There were houses, and cars parked. The castle stood above to the right of me, illuminated in spotlights against the night sky; I could finally see the back of it. So even though I was lost, I really wasn't. Home was on the other side of the castle.

My coat was tied round my waist from practice, and the early winter wind was indifferent and thorny; I zipped up, but I still felt cold. I walked, rubbed at my arms for warmth and comfort, bitterly aware that only Yuri could make such motions work for me and my own hands couldn't make me feel better. I tried to think... and hung my head. I didn't want to think... I closed my eyes -

_\- and Yuri turned to face forward, his face sharp and focused, controlling his speed, and then he threw himself into the axel jump with everything he had. 1, 2, 3... 4..._

_He landed perfectly, the first to successfully complete a quadruple axel jump._

Anger flared again, and I flinched at my own emotions. My heart was a mess, twisting in on itself.

For a moment, and I was relieved to do this, I doubted myself. I hadn't seen what I had seen. It was just a standard triple axel, with some added... flair... Tears broke. What are you doing, Victor, a part of me scolded. You counted. 1. 2. 3. 4. Four and a half turns. Four and a half _inarguable_ turns even; Yuri hadn't cheated, was in the air as he began to spin, landed cleanly on the one blade, no over-turning, no hand on the ice, not even a tiny stumble. It was with a considerable jolt, that extra half turn and the added height required adding to his speed as he hit the ice, but Yuri held it.

He'd forgotten himself. He smiled, ecstatic to have done it. When I saw that smile, and realised he'd just made himself proud, I...

I wanted to slap that smile right off his face.

...  _How dare he do this to me..._

I stopped walking. My palms hurt, from my nails digging into my skin. I heard a terrible, choking sound, and realised it was me.

"... How dare he do this..." I whispered to the wind. It didn't answer back.

One of the worst days of my life was the day that Yuri fell and broke his leg, ending his career. For... for everyone else, those who are just, I don't know, office workers and such, a broken leg isn't the worst thing in the world. But for him, for me, for  _us_... it tore everything that we had built our lives around from us. I had to take him home in pain, I left him in Hasetsu to train with Yakov so that Yuri's choreography wouldn't be finished that day too. Yuri was  _terrified_ of skating for a while. It became something he had to  _fight_ himself to do.

... Was that all for nothing?

The problem with Hasetsu being so small and quiet and forgotten... is that no one found me.

* * *

* * *

When I glided to a stop, I turned, forgetting,  _smiling_... and saw Victor's back. Saw him leave me.

I froze. I watched him yank his skates off, barely unlacing them, and pull his trainers, the laces kicking up as he walked to the doors and left. He didn't look back.

"... Victor..." His name echoed over the empty ice.

_Go after him, baka..._

My legs finally moved and I sprinted after him. My own skates fell next to his on the floor. I didn't even bother with my own shoes. But I was too slow; I came out, automatically looked left, towards... towards every spot I thought he'd go to, and I couldn't see him in the dark. How long had I been unable to move...?  _Shimatta_...

I went back inside, started when Yuuko-chan approached. My childhood friend looked shaken. "Yuri-kun... is everything okay?"

I didn't answer. I didn't want to lie anymore, so I didn't say everything was fine, because it wasn't. My husband had just walked away from me... and I couldn't even blame him...

I'm a pain to argue with. Victor and I... we're not perfect, we have spats, just like everyone else. But the tiny little things... they're really not your business, quite frankly. If I told you about them, I'd make them more important than they really are. But when it comes to the things that are important...

I always get so scared I clamp up, or I over-react and say things I don't want to say. Either way it makes things worse. The former makes Victor worry that he's bullying me into submission, and the latter drags things out and makes things ugly and messy. But... it's rare for us to walk away from each other. The first time I tried, Victor yelled even louder at me.  _"Don't you dare walk away from me when I'm shouting at you!"_ I almost forgot myself, forgot what we were arguing about, and laughed. Later he admitted he got the line from an adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing, thought the line was so perfect he committed it to memory and it came out before he could stop himself. He laughed too.

So I knew it was bad when Victor left. Left... left me...

I went back to the ice, and wanted to scream at the rink. That stupid jump... I was so stupid... and I'd been so  _pleased_ with myself when I landed it right, before Victor even... I forgot... he hated it... he hated that jump... I shouldn't have been smiling...

I should never have... never have...

Victor had left everything behind. I stared down at his skates for a moment, and then slowly bent and picked them up, picked mine up and took them back to Yuuko-chan. She didn't press me, just wordlessly took our skates for safekeeping. She gave me a small smile;  _it'll be okay_ , she silently said. I smiled back as best I could, falsely, and then caught myself. It was Yuuko-chan. I didn't need to fake-smile for her, she knew me better than that.

Victor had even left his phone, by the speakers. I had no way of reaching him. I... I had to find him. I had to make this right.

I grabbed up the rest of all our things, asked Yuuko-chan to call if Victor came back as she locked up. She offered to stay, in case he returned much later. I... I was touched, and tempted, but I declined. It was late; she ought to go home, she'd already stayed so late so many times before for us. And this was between Victor and I...

I ran home. My stomach dropped when I unlocked the door, because if he was home it wouldn't be locked, but I called out his name just in case as I let myself in, hoping he was there anyway. Sobachin barked in reply and bounded over, unsuspecting. I even spoke aloud to her. "Has Victor not come home?"

She whimpered at my tone, licked my face. I buried my face into her fur for a moment, trying not to panic.  _Where was he?_ It was December; it was cold and dark and late and he only had his coat with him. At least I was sure he had his keys with him; they would have been in his pocket from when he came home to feed Sobachin earlier, and they hadn't been amongst his things. Where would he go?

I checked his phone, just in case. My thumbprint was saved on it, just as his was saved on mine. I messaged his phone from mine, waited for the message to come through, and then left it on the table by the door, hopefully where he couldn't miss it.

As I made to leave Sobachin barked at me, and no matter what I tried to do she wouldn't stay put. I relented, grabbed her lead, told her sternly to stay with me, and ran out again with her. Maybe she could help me find him too.

The moon and stars were out, so when I came to a stop on the beach, with a stitch from sprinting and not breathing properly, I could see that... no one was there. It was so bright I could even see that there were no footprints in the sand. I ran down the beach anyway, checking, hoping. He wasn't there, Sobachin couldn't find him either.  _Kuso_... where else would he have gone...?

I ran back to town, checked Minako-sensei's studio, her snack bar, Nagahama Ramen, Victor's favourite bars. At every place, I messaged Victor's phone, rang it, hoping he would pick up. There was really only one place left that he might have gone to, if he wasn't at home...

I went home. My old home.

When I got in, Mari-neechan was walking past the entrance. "Yuri? Daijōbudesuka?"

I knew from her clueless face that Victor wasn't there, but I asked anyway. "Victor wa kokodesu ka?"

She frowned, worried. "Īe... Yuri!" I collapsed to my knees, exhausted. Sobachin whined at my side, nudging me with her nose. I had no ideas left. My sister put down the towels she was carrying and helped me back to my feet. "Come on, aniki, you look terrible. Come inside."

"N-no..." I struggled. "I have to go home, he might -"

" _Yuri_." I froze in her hold. No matter the discrepancy in our physical fitness, she's always been stronger than me. "Have you guys had a fight?" I flinched in her grip, and she narrowed her eyes, reading  _everything_ in my face. Mari-neechan... can always read me. She's my older sister, she knows when I'm feeling guilty. "In that case, let's get some food in you at least. You're not going back to have an argument on an empty stomach. Come on, shoes off."

I was going to say no, but then Oka-san came out of the kitchen, smiled at first at the sight of me, and then... "Yuri-chan, you alone? Where's Vicchan?"

And I bursted into tears.

Between my mother and my sister, they shepherded me into the private dining room, where, to my embarrassment, Yurio was wiping down the table, his hair tied back and rubber gloves on his hands.  _No_... I... I couldn't tell him why Victor and I... I couldn't tell him about the jump, not... not yet. Not unless Victor was okay with it, nothing...  _nothing was worth that_. He'd been so angry when Yurio tried the quad axel at the Grand Prix Final two years ago... he'd been so angry...

No wonder he walked out...

So I couldn't say anything at all. I managed to nod that yes, we were having a fight, and... all I could say was that I'd messed up...

"... With who?" Yurio asked quietly, hesitating, like he wasn't sure he wanted to ask after all.

"... Huh...?" With... what? That didn't make sense, the fight was with Victor, who else was... oh...  _oh_... "NO!" What!  _No! Never!_ I'd... shimatta...  _no_... "I haven't  _cheated_! No!  _I would never_.... no!" At the edge of my awareness, I realised... Yurio was relieved to be corrected. Oka-san smiled. That relieved me, her smile. It told me that she hadn't thought that was what I meant, that she had never thought that of me. But she never pressed me to tell her.

"Yuri... give Vicchan some space," she suggested gently, when Yurio took away my barely touched food and it was just the two of us.

"Demo..."

"Send him a message to say you're here." She patted my cheek gently, like she used to sometimes when I was a child, before I got bigger and awkward. "That way, if he wants you to come home, he can message back, and if he wants the house to himself for the night, he can. But I think... if you haven't found him yet, it's... maybe he doesn't want to be found yet."

My heart broke a little at that. I didn't like the idea of Victor being lost. "But... what if he's in trouble..."

"He won't be, I'm sure of it," she told me, with authority I hadn't heard from her in a long time. "If he's still not at home tomorrow morning, we'll get help," she said. "But I'm sure Vicchan's fine... or, as fine as he can be." She smiled. "Don't worry. Couples fight; this is normal. You two fight, and you'll have more fights to come. He loves you; he'll always fight  _for_ you too."

I stared at her, amazed. I realised... I had no memories of her and Oto-san arguing. Was that because I didn't remember, had wilfully and naively forgotten, or because they fought behind closed doors so Mari-neechan and I wouldn't notice? Or was it, as I had always assumed without thinking about it too much, that they didn't fight? They ran a business together, had children together... surely they didn't agree on everything? I was certain they didn't...

Then my mother said the most illuminating thing of all. "The worst is trying to sleep alone in a bed for two. He'll come home, you'll see." And she left me to my thoughts, recommending that I take them to the onsen for a long soak, shooing Yurio away when he came back.

She was right; I messaged Victor - all of my messages had been received but not read - one last time, and tried not to think of the last time I sat in the waters alone. When he went back to St Petersburg without me, I realised, after the cast was taken off my leg and I was cleared by the doctor. I'd been so lonely then, without him.

It was strange, walking past what used to be  _our_ room. It was Yurio's room now, and he looked awkward too, playing on his phone with the doors open as I walked past. "Yuri..." I stopped. It wasn't often he called me by my name. "A-About tomorrow... if... do you..."

Ah. Training. I smiled as best as I could, realising he was trying to say it was okay if I wanted to take a day off. But... no. "Do your normal regime with Yuuko-chan," I instructed. "I want to do full run-throughs of your Free Skate tomorrow. If... If I can't make it, I'll... I'll message Minako-sensei and ask if she can cover. Okay?"

Yurio nodded without argument. He opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. Oh Yurio... no need to worry so much. I felt bad, like... this will sound stupid... like parents arguing in front of the kids. I was getting Yurio caught in the middle through no fault of his own, or so his expression told me. He looked so uncomfortable.

I walked in, reached out and ruffled his hair, replacing that guilty look with irritation and I chuckled. I needed that too, to not feel so heavy for just a second. He didn't bat my hand away though, just stroked Sobachin's head after to say good night. I was heading out when -

"Do you want to switch?" I looked back, confused. Yurio looked down at his hands awkwardly. "This is your old room. It... it must be weird... we can switch if you want."

I won't lie, it was tempting... to sleep in the room Victor and I had slept in for two years. But... that wasn't our bed. We'd kept Victor's original bed, the giant king-sized bed, when we moved out. Yurio had bought his own, a double, and he didn't have bedside lamps like Victor originally had, or the same pictures on the walls. The bedding was different; Yurio preferred all black sheets.

Suddenly remembering what I was like alone in bed as an eighteen year old put me off for certain. "Ah... no..." I smiled back gratefully. "Thank you though. I  _am_ sleeping in my old room."

Yurio looked at me then a little oddly. "But... it's so small..."

I didn't follow. Makkachin used to fit with me before, Sobachin would be fine. It occurred to me much later that he was thinking of if Victor would fit.

Victor hadn't read my messages. Hadn't called back. Didn't picked up when I tried one last time. I tried not to cry as I looked about my childhood room, gutted of belongings - it was all at our house, either out or in storage. It smelt a little dusty; I opened the window a bit, shivered from the chill and hugged Sobachin a little tighter to me. I... I hadn't slept in my old room since before the Cup of China. That was so long ago...

The thought brought fresh tears and I buried my face into my pillow. After all this time I had messed up so badly...  _Victor, where were you?_ Sobachin whimpered in bed next to me, tried to get even closer than she already was. I almost laughed as I turned and she licked my face, fussing over me. Then she yawned, almost pointedly. I know. I was tired too... but... I checked my phone again. Still nothing.

I groaned frustratedly into the pillow.  _Just let me know that you're safe... please... be as angry with me as you want, do what you will, but just be at home safe..._

Time ticked away. The house went silent. I lay in the dark, exhausted, my eyes aching, unable to sleep. Sobachin snoozed, shuffling in my arms every time I moved so much as an inch.

Should I go home? What if Victor was there, ignoring my... oh. If he was at home and he was ignoring his phone, then... then he didn't want to see me...

I checked my phone. It was well gone midnight. I brought up my messages.

> Read 00:12

I sat up, staring at my phone, rubbing at my eyes in case they were playing tricks on me. Victor had read my messages... he was home...

The stairs creaked.

* * *

* * *

I had no idea what the time was. When I realised this, I realised how foolhardy I had been.

I had found a view point that looked out over the beach on the North side, just under a lamppost with a bench. The wind off Hasetsu Bay felt like it was eating my face. Between the wind and my thought eating my mind, I was being devoured.

My memories were playing tricks on me. I was trying to remember exactly what Yuri had ever said about the quad axel that put him in the hospital over two and a half years ago in St Petersburg. I was trying to remember when he promised me he would never try it again... and I was bitterly realising that... he never made such a promise. Yurio did, but not Yuri.

He had always said, when those he trusted asked, that when he fell he'd been distracted with mundane thoughts, and tried to do both a quad flip and a triple axel, thus spinning himself far too much. I hadn't seen him launch; I'd... I was looking up anniversary gifts on my phone. I had always believed him... had he been lying? Was he actually practicing the quad axel and it went wrong? But... he would have told me he was trying to do it... this was what hurt the most. Why hadn't he told me that he could do the quad axel before?

I had so many questions...

And I wasn't going to get them alone under that lamppost. I looked behind me for the castle, still looming above the residential houses, and headed home, retracing steps I hadn't really been aware that I'd taken. Eventually I got back to Ice Castle; it was all locked up. Of course; we shouldn't drag the Nishigori's into it all. But I had left my things behind, my phone... would Yuri have taken them home? I was glad that I had my keys on me...

The front door was locked. My heart sank further. If Yuri was home the door would be unlocked for me. Unless... he was angry with me for walking out...? Had I overreacted?

The house was dark, empty. Even Sobachin wasn't there, barking madly to welcome me. "Ta..." I was about to say 'tadaima' but... no one was there to hear me. I checked, I went through the house. Yuri wasn't there. I didn't feel like I was at home yet... where was he?

My phone was by the door. I seized it, about to call him when I saw... 

> Gone looking for you - where are you?! Please call me when you come home. Gone to look for you on the beach. I love you, Y x
> 
> I'm at the beach - are you home?! Please, just let me know if you're back! Y x
> 
> Just checked Minako-sensei's studio, now at her snack bar - Victor, are you there? Please call me... I love you x
> 
> At Nagahama Ramen... please be at home, please x
> 
> At my parents... I'm going to stay here tonight. Please let me know if you want me to come home... call or text any time. Sobachin's with me - I'll bring her home in the morning.  
>  I love you. Please let me know you're safe. Y x

I had dozens of missed calls. I even had a missed call from Yurio, who had left a whispered voicemail.

 _"Victor, where the_ fuck _are you?! I don't know what the fuck either of you have done, and quite frankly I don't give a shit either. Just get your stupid ass over here and_ fix this.  _Yuri's been looking for you everywhere... He's your god damned husband, Victor. Fix it."_

I think the most sobering thing was that he hadn't said 'Katsudon'.

It felt even colder when I crossed the bridge, running, but it meant that when I got to Yu-Topia it was all the warmer when I got in.

Hiroko-okasan let me in, just as I used, with unease, the spare key she insisted we keep. She smiled instantly at the sight of me, and...

This is why I never suggested to Yuri that we move away from Hasetsu when we were looking to move out. After a lifetime of never really having family, I did. I had a mother and a father and sister in law here who loved me, who were glad that I was there in their lives. I needed Oka-san's smiles, her hugs as I apologised for - she wouldn't let me apologise.

"Go and talk to Yuri," she said simply, without judgement, as though... as though I was just as much her son as her actual son... and she armed me with tea.

She switched off lights as we went up, silently informing me that I was staying the night. She patted me on the back when we got to the separate set of stairs that lead to the back of the house where our old room was, where Yuri's old room was. Yurio was in our old room now, that was confusing...

I got to the top of the landing, stared ahead to the closed doors. I hadn't been in Yuri's old room since I left him behind in Moscow, and it had felt wrong going in there, intrusive. I felt intrusive again. What if Yuri was asleep? What if he was angry with me too? What if -

I heard a bark through the door and the scrambling of paws. "Victor...?" I heard Yuri call tentatively, nervously,  _hopefully_. I stopped hesitating, and opened his door.

My husband was in bed, in the process of finding his glasses and getting out of bed, and he froze at the sight of me. My heart broke; he looked just as scared as he had been earlier. But I didn't have a chance to say anything; Sobachin was already pawing at me, on her hind legs, whimpering and shaking her tail, relieved to see me. I reached out carefully to her, balancing the cups of tea on a tray with my other hand, worried she would wake up the house.

"Victor..." Our old bedroom slid open and Yurio peered out, looking nervous to be interrupting but relieved too. He looked very child like in that moment.

"Umm..." I felt caught, between the dog and my student, when all I wanted, _needed_ was Yuri, who looked equally stuck at the edge. "Yurio, can you take Sobachin for us?" The 'us' fell off my tongue before I thought that perhaps it should be 'me'. But he nodded immediately, stepped forward and coaxed Sobachin to his room, gripping on to her collar. For a moment I stared - he'd thrown me an awkward smile as he shut the door - and listened to Yurio whispering to Sobachin to settle down, and then...

It was just us.

"Victor..."

I turned back to Yuri, to his room that I had never been in with him. The lights were off, but the moonlight was streaming in through the thin curtains. His glasses were on, his eyes fixed on mine.

I love the colour of his eyes... so very normally brown, warm like an onsen. He once admitted to me that mine can be intimidating; he feels like the blue cuts through him, unless I'm smiling. His however... I didn't always feel like this, but since those early days as he started opening up to me, I felt  _seen_ in his enormous eyes. In his eyes, I'm not just Victor Nikiforov. In his eyes, I'm Victor.

Slowly, Yuri raised his hand, reached out for me. I sighed, relieved. As I stepped in feeling like I could, like I should, I let myself not be angry for a moment and took his hand, let him pull me gently to his bed. I sat down, and he sat up, and I let him hug me. His messages... he'd been so scared for my welfare. He was so relieved that I was there, safe, despite everything.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," I whispered into his shoulder, meaning it. It was an awkward fit; I was still trying to balance the tea as he buried himself into me. Slowly I pulled back, handed him his cup. He looked surprised at the offering but took it, blew at it tentatively but didn't drink. I did, and winced still, just a bit too hot.

"I'm sorry too..." His voice was small, but I knew how heavy those words were. It didn't suffice, but I knew that he knew that too. He owed me more than apologies. Then again... so did I. In that tiny room, nearing one o'clock in the morning, I knew that I should have stayed, so we could talk - or shout or scream or cry - on the ice.

I looked at my beloved's face. His eyes found mine of a second and then he flinched, cut, and looked at his tea, sipping. He winced too. His cheeks were pink, his eyes red. When he hugged me his skin had smelt clean, of the onsen, but his t-shirt smelt sweaty; it was what he'd been wearing at practice, too chilly to be naked. We had never thought to leave clothes at Yu-Topia with his parents. Why would we need to sleep there anymore, when we had our house only across the river? I thought of asking if he wanted to go home, but... he was already in bed, and I was tired. Moreover, I... I felt safe. Even with all his family there under the roof, and Yurio next door, I... I didn't fancy going to our house where it would only be the two of us to look after each other. It was night, and it was cold outside; it felt okay to whisper in cocooned shadows.

Except I didn't know where to start. And I knew that Yuri was waiting for me to. I remembered my anger. One of the things I don't like is that when we argue (and we don't often) is that Yuri often lets - no,  _makes_ \- me take the lead. He becomes a turtle; sticks his head into his shell and waits out the danger, afraid of getting hurt. I hate the implication; that  _I'm hurting him_.

But... I can... can't I...? He can hurt me too...  _has hurt me_...

I wanted to start right off by pointing out that he'd been lying to me. I didn't know when, or how, or why, but the quad axel had shattered my understanding of things, and he had known that. I wanted to accuse him... but...

I didn't want to hurt anymore, him or me. Yurio was right. Just fix it.

"So..."

Yuri shrank, knowing he had run out of time on his reprieve. Then his fists clenched around his cup, reached down to put it on the floor, and he looked up. Ready.

"How long have..." I paused considering my words very carefully. I swallowed down the 'you been lying to me'. "How long have you been able to do that quad axel?" I asked softly, trying hard to not sound harsh.

Nevertheless, Yuri flinched. A tear rolled down his cheek before he could wipe it away. "A... a few months... I..." He took a deep breath, trying to keep it together. For me. "I managed... I managed to do it for the first time just before we went to Koh Ai. I..." He looked away, faltering. "I wanted to come home and show you, but..."

But Yurio was here and grieving and we were trying to look after him. I understood. "How long had you been practicing?" I asked when he turned back to me.

He shook. I wanted to reach out, put my hand on his knees, brought up to shield himself. As though he needed protecting... from me. "Since... since St Petersburg..."

My face drained... What...?

"I..." He wiped furiously at more tears. "I didn't... it wasn't..." He stopped, breathed, shoved his fists under his glasses into his eyes to stem his tears and tried to calm down. I relented; his knees were cold. But that made things worse, and he bent over, trying not to sob. I put my tea on the floor too so I could rub his back with both hands.

I... I didn't understand...

"It was meant as a surprise..."

My hands froze on his back. That... that still didn't make sense. A surprise... Then, without even my needing to be conscious of it all, the pieces started to reshuffle into place.

I had been shopping for gifts for our anniversary that day. He fell barely a fortnight before our first anniversary, a year since I had come to Hasetsu.

"I'd..." Yuri sat up, his face red, trying hard to be able to breathe to talk, to tell this truth he'd been burying for so long. "When... when we moved to St Petersburg, I wanted... I wanted to show..." He closed his eyes, guiltily, and I realised... he was afraid that this was going to hurt... hurt me. "I wanted to show you how far I had come, that... that I had gone beyond anyone's wildest imaginations, even..." And he said this so quietly. "... Even yours..."

Yuri deflated, opened his eyes and looked up at me. "I was trying to figure out how to do the last quad so I could show you on our anniversary..."

... I'm ashamed to admit that... that I wished, right then, that he hadn't told me that after all. Because my first thought was...  _it was for me_... followed by...

 _He fell because of me_...

And Yuri saw the moment as that last went through my head. Immediately he uncurled, panicked, and grabbed at me as I retreated in shock. "No! Victor, no..."

Yuri's hands managed to grip on to my shirt at my shoulder and my wrist and didn't let go, didn't let me go as I tried to retreat, horrified at myself...

_... It was because of me..._

* * *

* * *

To be continued...


	21. White

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 16

_White_

* * *

* * *

Yuri tightens his arms round me.

We're on the sofa, under the skylight. The sky is pink above us, but the room is shadowed, preparing for night. It's chilly, and maybe it's because we have both had a difficult day that isn't over, so we have a blanket thrown over us. Yuri is behind me, my back rest, his head over my shoulder so he can read what I type. On the other side of my laptop is Sobachin, guarding at our feet. Blanket hog that she is, every time she shuffles she tugs the blanket with her, but she's warming my feet, so I'm not complaining much. My back at least is warm.

Yuri puts his hands over mine on the laptop keys, stopping me from continuing. "It... it wasn't your fault..."

... No... but...

My silence is my disagreement, and Yuri sighs, but... he understands, I know he does.

He blamed, and blames, himself. That's how he wants to tell me that it wasn't my fault, because it was all his. But he knows that I won't let that stand either.

He shifts behind me. My shoulder is damp, as are my cheeks. These are not the memories of a single day, but of nearly three years. They begin in another country, where I was unawares, and when Yuri still questioned how extraordinary he was at his craft (still questions, though there's now just too much evidence to the contrary).

I had thought he lied to me. In fairness, he didn't. But.. he hid this from me, for a long time. And also in fairness, he never made excuses. Not once has he ever said 'I just didn't tell you the truth'. He doesn't distinguish either, for he let me believe something that wasn't true, and never corrected me until then.

Since, I've been angry that he broke his silence for... well, for  _JJ_ , of all people, for Yurio, so he could beat him. For a competition.

 _Not for me_.

But... well...

* * *

 

* * *

He was here... Victor was here.

_I made a promise. I'm not letting go._

This is one of the many reasons why I never said anything, anata. I have plenty of selfish reasons but... when I was weak, this was my excuse: I was always, always worried that... you'd blame yourself... instead of me.

It was my fault. I messed up.  _I_ messed up.  _I messed up_.

Victor slowly lowered his hand from his shocked, open mouth and swallowed. He looked... oh god... he looked horrified. "Then... when you fell and..."

Fresh tears fall down my face, but I had no hands free to stop them.  _I'm not letting go_... "It really was an accident... I didn't... I was telling the truth, I... I wasn't concentrating, and... and when I went to do that jump I-I really didn't know which one I was doing. You were right there, and it was too soon... I just threw myself into it like I was practicing, and then I couldn't correct it in time before the landing because I was turning too fast, and..."

I fell to ashamed silence. He knew what happened after, but not...

"Yuri..." I looked up. Victor... oh anata... he was close to crying. "Why... why didn't..." In a flicker, his anger boiled up and he reached out, grabbed on to my t-shirt and pulled me closer so we were nearly forehead-to-forehead, and furious tears fell down his face. "It's been  _years... I married you. You married me. Why didn't you tell me this before?!_ "

Because... oh god... I couldn't tell you...

" _Yuri_..."

"Be-Because..."  _Onegai, Kamisama_ , I prayed.  _Give me strength... I ruined this, this best thing I've ever had... give me the strength to fix it and keep him._ "Because I was scared that..."

 _Please_...

Victor's fists on my t-shirt released a little, but he didn't let go either. "... That...?"

It sat in my chest like a tumour, this fear. It sits there now, though... time has made it more benign. I'm hoping that one day it'll be gone entirely... what a wonderful thing that would be... but...

I know myself better than that. It'll always be there. All I can do is my best to... well... I don't know.

I sobbed out the worst of me. "That... that you'd give up on me... _because I ruined_ _everything... kamisama_..."

I fell, doubling over, and after a shocked agonising second, Victor caught me, muffling my sobs with his body. Like Sobachin earlier he moved to try and get as close as possible. He whispered my name, again and again, and that horrible, devil feeling in me told... told me lies.  _He won't forgive you this, he'll leave, why would he bother with you... because of you your career was ruined, because of you he had to go back, miserable, to Russia, because of you he had to go through the stress of returning to competition because you couldn't face it... because of me_... "Victor... Watashi... I... I'm so... I'm so sorry...  _I'm so sorry for_... for...  _for everything I have put you through_..."

Victor froze, and then he carried on whispering my name, like there were no other names in the world, like... like he loved me... and the feeling slowly, so very slowly... ran out of fuel.

Gently, Victor reached between us and coaxed up my chin. "Yuri, watashiwomite..."

I hiccoughed, nodded, tried my best, rubbing at my face. He took over, wiping my tears away with both his hands in fan movements, until my face was cupped in his hands. I looked at him, as he asked. Anata... he'd been crying too.

Still... he smiled instead at me. "Yuri... have I really been so unhappy all these years with you?"

My face dropped. _What_... Victor waited, waited for an actual answer.

That ugly devil in me reared its head again.  _Yes, he has, remember all those times he was distant, remember all those times you disappointed him, remember -_

Another side of me flared, roared into life, and, like a god dispatched to cleanse the earth of demons, slayed the devil with fury.  _No you don't, you despicable creature,_  it blazed.  _Don't you fucking dare._ _Remember..._

Remember how he hugged you, when you won  _Onsen On Ice_. Remember how he shook your hand on the beach, committing to your adventures together, making a promise beyond words. Remember the look on his face, before he jumped on to the ice at the Cup of China, the look on his face before you kissed him back that first time, like he'd been waiting forever and the wait was finally over. Remember how tightly he held you when you came home from Moscow, in the airport, in bed at home. Remember how blissful he looked after you both stepped off the ice after the exhibition in Barcelona, how he never left your side the rest of the night, his hand rarely letting go of yours. Remember how ecstatic he was when you asked to move to St Petersburg with him, when he picked you up from Pulkovo.

Remember how he smiled, just listening to you natter away in Tokyo after you surprised him with that wonderful night away, how grateful he was for being treated so. Remember how he couldn't stop smiling the first day you went back onto the ice, holding your hand as all you did were laps round the edge, nervous. Remember how he forgot to be nervous at the NHK Trophy in his first year back because you were with him, remember how glad he was to fly again together to Seoul for the Grand Prix Final. Remember how much fun you both had choreographing his last season's programs, how much he made you blush describing the emotions he was putting into  _lit(var)_ and  _Shelter_. Remember how much he smiled at you through his tears after his last exhibition at his last competition, because he had all the time in the world to devote to life and love with you.

Remember Koh Ai, and how nervous he was proposing. Remember how much effort he put into finding your home, into making it our home. Remember our wedding. Remember the promises you made to him, the promises he made to you, the fact that you understood the words that you said and that he understood the words that he said.

Remember that not a single day has gone by when he didn't make the time to kiss you since your first kiss. Remember that even when you've been apart they've filled your inbox, been blown over Skype.

"... No..."

Victor smiled at me then. I love his smile. The real smiles, not the ones for cameras and reporters and fans, for strangers. Those real smiles where he hides nothing. Those real smiles that made me move on from the fairy in my posters, and that I fell in love with. They make me want to kiss him, so he'll smile all the more.

"Come on, Yuri, you can do better than that," Victor teased me gently, and there was a pause before I realised and smiled back reluctantly. "Want to try that again for me?"

Baka. I leant forward into his hands, cleared my throat. "No. You haven't."

He smiled, and leant forward too, so we were forehead-to-forehead. Mind to mind. "I've never been so happy as I have been with you. Yes, we had some days that weren't so great... today is one of them..." I gave a split second, huffing laugh. "But you don't ever need to say sorry for those. If..." He paused to think of his next words, and stroked my cheeks when he kept going again. "If someone shoved me into a time machine, and took me back to life before you... for starters, I'd be  _pissed_..."

I blinked, and then another huffing laugh bubbled out of me, and he chuckled too. "V-Victor..." I managed, because he was being deliberately silly now.

He nodded against my forehead and went back to his point. "I would be though. Anyway... as long as doing everything -  _everything_  - all over again got me back to this moment, I would do it all again. Everything. Those bad days too."

... Anata...

He ran his fingers - all of them - through my hair, making me sigh. "So you don't owe me an apology for the things that we've been through together, as though it had all been a mistake, because I'd make that mistake again and that's on me."

Remember that right from the start, he made a choice... and picked you.

I suddenly realised where my hands were; clasped to my chest, like I was trying to keep my rib cage shut and my heart still within. Slowly I released my fingers and reached forward, to his elbows, to the middle of the bridge between us. He smiled then, that I had stopped trying to protect myself from him. I don't ever need to do that; I can't anyway.

Victor then sighed, and gave me a light shake. "I'm still... I'm still angry with you... Yuri. You should have told me."

I nodded without hesitation. "I... I know. I always... I always knew. But... time went by. You went back to St Petersburg to train, and I couldn't bear to tell you something that might keep you away from me, and then when you came back... I was still scared... it was..." I tried not to cry again, ashamed of the next. "It was easier, just keeping silent..."

* * *

* * *

This is the thing about love that I have learnt. Even when you're furious with the person you love most, you still want to comfort them when they're in pain. It still  _hurts_  when they're hurting.

His comment about it being easier... stung, but... I understood. I was starting to understand many things.

I could see so many memories in a different light. Tokyo, for instance... I understood better why he had made such an effort, appreciated it all the more. All that day he'd talked so much like he was relieved I was there, like if he stopped talking to me I might vanish. When we made love, he... he looked like he'd been... like he'd been  _saved_. I knew, because once in a much calmer moment he'd admitted that he'd been scared that I wouldn't come back from St Petersburg, even though I'd done all I could to make it clear that I would... I don't think I really understood  _exactly how scared_  he'd been.

I understood better why he had retired. Again, I knew it was because he was afraid of getting injured again, he'd told me... but it was always more complicated than that.

And... I understood, better than he knew, that yes... it was easier with time, keeping silent. Why bring up something ugly, something you're afraid of, when things are fine...?

And I understood that many of the things that he'd just admitted came from his anxiety, over which neither of us had control. It's why I never like to tell him he's... he's being stupid, or being daft, or just wrong. Yuri will take the insult, not pass it on to the anxiety. But I also knew, from all this time of being with him, that he  _hated_  his anxiety more than anyone, that within his head the fiercest of battles took place - I could see them play out in his expressions, could see when one or the other side was winning, could always see the moment when one side was victorious - and... he'd once told me that it was like having a samurai in his head, a warrior that would come and take the anxiety and beat it to within an inch of its life for daring to invade, would bash all the infected thoughts with stronger, happier thoughts. The warrior didn't always make appearances, but when it did... Yuri told me sometimes it sounded like... it sounded like me sometimes. Or him. Or... and this made me laugh affectionately... his favourite heroes from his favourite TV shows.

I never told him this explicitly... perhaps I ought to, given... well. I thought of that warrior when Yuri started preparing for what should have been our second season together. He was so determined to do even better, to keep going. I asked him what the warrior looked like, but he frowned, wondering why I was asking, and told me the warrior never really looked like anything, just a faceless figure with a sword running into battle. Over the years the figure changed, dependent on his influences at the time. Once it seemed to be in full armour, with a terrifying mask like the samurai of old. After seeing Yojimbo and Sanjuro, the figure looked more tatty, more humble, but equally ferocious. He couldn't even be certain the figure was male, just assumed it was. Once, when he really was young, and he blushed bright red as he admitted this, and he could have gotten away with not... it wore a black costume with crystals scattered across, with long white hair.

(It took a long while to figure out what to do with that gem of information.)

It felt... right, in a way, when I came to refit Yuri's costumes that I had designed for him when I took over  _History Maker_  and  _You Only Live Once_. My critics said that, even though I was skating for the Russian flag, I looked too Japanese, like a ninja or something. That was the point. At least I didn't wear a Tengu mask or something (it had been tempting... but too impractical).

Maybe I should have told him that this is how I see him sometimes. You're the strongest person I know, Yuri, for thinking so little of yourself, yet doing the most extraordinary things anyway. In my head, your warrior has a face, an unwavering voice. In my head, I can't take my eyes off him either.

Which is why it hurt so much, to see him so scared. In the same moment I wanted and didn't want to forgive him. I didn't care about the jump - that's a lie, I did, but for different reasons, and ones I wasn't entirely sure of or proud of - but I did care about him keeping it a secret from me. I understood that, in the very beginning, it was meant as a surprise... I could just imagine how I might have reacted if he'd performed the quadruple axel for me on the ice in St Petersburg, how much I would have looked forward to the coming season knowing he was un-defeatable. I understood why now...

But we were married now. Was this somehow about not having a piece of paper to confirm it? Was saying our vows before our friends and family not enough? I thought we had meant it... he should have told me... I was his husband; his troubles were mine too now.

_You're stuck in circles, Victor. Move forward._

"... Wakatta..."

Yuri timidly looked up at me, his eyes barely inches away from mine. "Victor...?"

The warrior in my head turned and smiled knowingly.  _Stop pretending that you haven't already forgiven him. You forgave him the moment you saw his messages, and realised from just how few minutes were between each one, that he'd run all over town for you to make things right._ So make things right _._

I came back to myself, and realised I had drifted away, and his grip on my elbows was tight, worried I was backing away and not wanting to let me go... "Wakatta..." I said quietly again. Then I looked at Yuri, at his confused, frightened face. Oh my darling... "Wakatta," I said, with conviction.

Yuri's eyes widened as he realised that I really did understand, and he started crying again before he could stop himself, relieved. I caught him, pulling him into my arms, pulling him so close he had to move his legs otherwise he'd fall, but the position was still too awkward. I was sat on the edge of the bed, full dressed bar my coat that was downstairs, and we were both tired and worn out and there was still more to ask and say, but for now... I just wanted to hold him. I just wanted us both to feel less wretched.

I waited for his tears to run dry again, pressed gentle kisses on his cheeks to take away the tracks they'd left, and stroked his hair like I love doing. "Come on," I said softly, and nodded to his pillow. "Take this off," and I tugged at his t-shirt, "it smells sweaty. Let's lie down."

I stripped too, to my underwear, and got into his bed that I had never been in before. Yuri took off his glasses, backed up to the edge by the window, and I reached over to close it - why did he have it open in the first place? It was freezing - and tugged him back into my arms. He automatically tucked himself into my shoulder, where he fits so perfectly, and he sighed, safe. But his eyes stayed open. Mine too. We weren't done yet.

"Yuri..." He tensed on my chest, but he moved his head enough so his eyes could meet mine. "Why... why did you start practicing the quad axel again?"

He shrank a little in my arms, lowered his head again. But he pressed himself closer to me, not backing away. After a moment he looked back up at me again. "Because... I didn't want to feel like I had failed anymore..."

It was my turn to flinch. "Y-Yuri..."

He sniffed, but... he was okay. "I... I had messed up so badly... I didn't want to... I didn't want to be depressed about it anymore. So... when I was able to, after all the physio was over and I was skating and jumping again, I... I tried again." He swallowed, and I could tell he wanted to fidget, feeling raw. I rubbed my hand on his back to soothe. "I didn't... I didn't practice it properly, I just... every now and then I'd... I'd give it another go. I kept falling - I figured out how to get the turns in before... before I fell - but... I couldn't balance on the landing, and I didn't want to injure myself again, so... then I got better at it... I kept touching down, but I was still upright, and then... then I managed to do it..." He frowned, worried. "Victor... I really did want to tell you then, but... then we were on holiday and we were having so much fun, and then... then Nicolai, and... I hadn't even practiced it since then, with Yurio here... I didn't know how to..." He sighed, stopped. I knew that expression; he felt like he was making excuses for something inexcusable. "Gomen'nasai. You're right... I should have told you... long ago... I'm sorry..."

I stroked his hair, pressed a kiss into the top of his head. "Yuri, kīte. I'm... let's be honest, I'm not going to be happy about this for... well, I don't know how long, but... I'll work through that. I promise. Okay?" He nodded, and I tilted up his chin, kissed him. He hummed after it, relieved. "And as for the jump..." He tensed, waited. "Talk to Yurio. Tell him you figured it out. But... you've only got a few days at best. Even if you manage to teach him - and I imagine he's probably practiced himself in the past - he's still got a way to go, so it might not benefit anyway. You know that... right?" Yuri nodded, agreeing instantly. "Okay, good..." I ran my eyes over his face. He seemed... lighter. Free. "Yuri." He lifted his head up a tad, to show I had his attention. "Koko ni kite..."

And I kissed him properly. As he sighed and kissed me back, I poured in everything into that kiss. All my worries about him, all my love, all my anger. He was breathless when we pulled back, we both were. "My infuriating husband... you're never going to lose me," I whispered at his lips. "I promised."

Yuri melted into me again, kissed me again, relieved. After his head dropped back into my neck, and I smiled at how the tension in his body was slowly but surely disappearing. I treaded our fingers together and smiled as my ring glinted in the moonlight through the curtains. I folded my arm up so I could hold his hand on my chest. I was worried still - this conversation wasn't over, we would talk more when we got home - but... I hadn't lost him either. Yuri was in my arms, and things were starting to be made right. But, still...

I hugged him tightly to me for a moment, pressed a kiss into his forehead. "Whilst we're here... anything else I should know? Any other secrets?"

On my chest, Yuri frowned. I looked down, and almost chuckled. He... he was really trying to think, was there? After a long moment racking his brains he looked up at me, shrugging slightly. "Okay. I..." I sighed. It was my turn. "I... I have been... putting this off... telling you, I mean, and..." I sighed again, looked down and realised my mistake. Yuri's eyes were wide as saucers. Of course they would be. "Sorry, moya lyubov', it's not... don't look so worried, it's nothing, but..." Oh for god's sake.

I lifted up my legs under the duvet a bit, making him look down, and bent my knees. I tightened my hold on him. I... it wasn't nothing really, not to me. "I'm going to need to see the doctor... about my knees."

"... Huh?" Yuri looked up at me, more worried. "Victor...?"

I grimaced. "They've been... they've been aching..." I gave a short laugh. "Too many years of quad flips, I think. I'm probably going to need an operation, on both of them. It's... umm..." It was my turn to shrink. "It's agony... some days."

Yuri burrowed into me, offering comfort. "Victor... I didn't... how long?"

I winced. "A few months now..." He looked up at me, appalled. I know... gomen. "It was alright when I was just doing Yurio's physical training because..." I chuckled, despite it. "Well, I could be lazy and just stand there with a stop watch most of the time. But... I can probably keep going on the ice for a bit longer, but... they're not going to last much longer at this rate, it just... it just hurts too much if I push myself too far."

Yuri leant up and kissed me tenderly, his hand on my cheek. I could feel it... he wanted to say that I should have told him, but... he didn't feel like he had the right to. He did, but... "I know..." I quietly said, and he nodded, understanding.

He pushed up a bit, resting on one arm, hovering over me. He smiled a little, glad. "I'm going to find you the best doctor for that, okay?" I frowned. No need for - "Ah! No buts. I'll call Ciao-Ciao, see if he has any recommendations, Yakov too."

I smiled up at him, amazed. Then I frowned again, uncertain whether he really understood what was going to happen. "I... it's going to need to be both of them... I don't... I don't want to have to do one and then the other... drag it out, heal awkwardly... I..." I swallowed, nervous. I never had to really ask this of anyone. "Will you help me, after...?"

He blinked. Then he sighed, nodded, smiling widely. "Of course." He leant down and kissed me, kissed me until my tension was gone. "Of course I will..."

I wrapped my arms round him tightly, relieved. "I love you..."

He smiled, nodded against my lips. "I love you too."

We kissed for a little while longer, until sleep finally waved, delayed long enough. Yuri settled back on my chest, and I closed my eyes contentedly, yawned my last. "Anything else?" I asked sleepily. I couldn't think of anything important left to tell him.

Yuri hummed, thinking again, and then... suddenly a jolt went through his body, and he yelped, hiding his face into my chest. "Y... Yuri...?" He shook his head against me, and I saw that he'd gone red as a tomato... why were you so embarrassed? I almost laughed. "What... what just went through your head?"

He gave a whimper, and then grabbed the duvet and threw it over his head. I heard him say something muffled against my chest, muffled further by the duvet. "Yuri, say that again..." I bent to press my ear against the mound, and just caught him... he said something like...

"I... argh... I thought of you once... in here..."

Umm... what did that mean? I frowned, confused, and then... oh...  _oh_... OH.

I blinked at the ceiling, at my surroundings. At the walls where I knew posters of me once adorned the walls of a teenage fan. At Yuri's old desk, where his laptop once sat. At the thin curtain, letting the moonlight leak in, the night glowing. And I got the clearest image in my head of Yuri's twenty-three year old self, still chubby, still Kobuta-chan, lying in the bed I was lying in... thinking of me next door...

I glanced at the mound of man and duvet on top of me, could picture how embarrassed he must be, hidden away... and nearly spat with the laugh that tickled through me. A split second later I remembered I had to keep my voice down, which didn't help at all. The duvet slowly pulled back, and Yuri peered up at me, lost and affronted. "V-Victor...?"

I'm so sorry, Yuri, moya lyubov'. It was just... we'd been so deathly serious only minutes before, had laid the foundations of making amends, and _that_ obviously went through your head so fast you couldn't stop yourself from reacting. And I could just picture it...  _picture you_... over three years ago... what would I have given to know that you had been fantasising about me?

Yuri, wounded from my giggles, shrank and started to retreat. Oh no you don't. As he started to peel away from me I rolled over on to my side, grabbing him and holding him tight as I brought my lips to his ear. " _I thought of you too_..." I whispered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his eyes widen. "...  _More than once_..."

Yuri froze in my hold. Then he exhaled... his breath shivered over my pulse, and I sighed at his ear. I became so much more aware of where his hands were - one on my chest, meant to push me back for laughing, and his other was skimming over my ribs, trying to dig under me. I wanted him...  _I wanted him so fucking badly_... I trailed the tip of my nose over his cheek, nudged the tip of his, and I sank into the warm earth of his eyes. Which fluttered, once, to my lips.

We fell on each other like we had been starving -  _we had_ \- and we both whimpered as our bodies crashed and twisted, desperate to get closer. His small bed creaked underneath us, protesting when we moved too much. It sobered me a bit, reminding me where we were and who was next door and elsewhere in the house, but then Yuri started pushing our underwear down enough to hold us - hard - together, and we both fell out of our frantic kiss to smother our moans into each other's shoulders. His ear was right there again... I sucked on his lobe, and his hips jerked against mine.

" _Yuri_..." I moaned into his ear as his hand sped up against my sensitive skin beneath the covers, against his own. " _Kī-kīte_..."

And then I whispered things to him that are for him alone. Things I had once thought of, when I was sleeping next door and he was in here with Makkachin, giving me some privacy to _vent_. Things I wanted to do to him, for him, once we got home. Things I had once wanted him to do to me. Things that we had done plenty of times since.

Yuri started to unravel, fast, really fast for him. His hand on us jumped into my hair, his fingers flexing for purchase, so that I kept whispering promises to him as my hand replaced his, and I focused my attention on him, on bringing him myself. "When you thought of me,  _Yuri_..." He moaned through his teeth biting his lip as I spread his name like melted butter. "When you thought of me... did you think of this?" I sped up my hand, and he started to tremble. "Did you think of me touching you instead?'

" _Vic-!_ " Yuri moaned like he was being strangled, trying not to moan too loudly as he came on our stomachs, trembling in my arms. He was gone for a moment, buried into my shoulder, and I pressed kisses where I could reach into his skin. Finally he looked up at me... and he looked...  _pissed_.

He shoved me on to my back, kissed me hard before I could protest, making me melt and submit beneath him, and then just as I wanted him to kiss me again he pulled away, dived down my body and -

Yuri chuvstvoval sebya tak khorosho... blyad'...

It was  _agony_... I wanted to moan, loudly, moan his name loudly, but... and I wanted to buck my hips into his mouth, unable to keep still, but the creaking of the bed was too loud...  _Yuri_... he was gripping my hips so hard, to keep me still, that I knew I was going to find bruises later...  _you felt so good_... I treaded my fingers through his hair, lifted up the sheets to watch. Oh god, too much to both watch and feel and smell and... and...  _and_...  _I could feel it coming_...

I suddenly had the starkest image in my head of Beijing. Of the first time I went down on Yuri and how overwhelmed he'd been... I'd taught him this...

I grabbed the pillow out from under my head and bit it as my orgasm swept through me like a dam bursting.

I whimpered quietly when Yuri kissed my stomach, sensitive _everywhere_ , resting his head there for a second, before resetting my briefs and slowly crawling back up to cradle my face, pushing my hair out of the way. My limp hands shook as they reached up to hold his head close to mine as he kissed me, so spent I could barely do anything else. He smiled at how helpless I was, yet I felt... safe. "Alright?"

I nodded, the effort feeling too much, and he kissed my cheek, my jaw, my collarbone. I frowned... no... I...

I willed strength into my hands and stopped him before he settled on my chest. He looked up at me, worried for a split second that I was pushing him away. Definitely not, moya lyubov', but I wanted to sleep on top of you, not you on top of me. His face cleared, and he nodded and reached for me. We rolled over, and I moaned contentedly as my head found its rest under his chin. Yuri pulled the covers over us, tucked us in where he could reach, and rubbed his hands down my arms, over my back, warming me. My eyes closed, happy, no longer cold.

Worry and anger and hurt and everything else could wait for tomorrow. It was so late, tomorrow already, that yes, I did mean the day after.

* * *

* * *

Victor sighs deeply, saves what he's written, and closes the laptop, setting it to one side. I kiss the top of his head, and smile as he turns over in my arms, sliding to one side and cuddles into me.

It's been a while since then. I can happily tell you that I haven't held anything back from him since, and never intend to again. Or if I have, I don't remember what they are anymore. I hope that means that they're not important anyway.

"Yuri?"

I run my fingers through his hair. "Hmm?"

"... I feel like carbs tonight."

I chuckle. "Okay."

He reaches up and kisses me. "We need a break from broccoli, I think."

You certainly won't find any complaint from me. He jumps up and heads the kitchen. "Want a hand?" I call.

He turns and shakes his head with a smile. Sobachin, snoozing, lifts her head, sees one of her dads heading for where her bowl is and gets up and follows excitedly. I chuckle as I listen to Victor talking to her. "No, Soba... don't look at me like that, you're not getting dinner just yet, you know that... no, I'm not giving you treats either...  _no_... go play with Yuri... that's it, go on, good girl..."

And Sobachin comes out of the kitchen and joins me again on the sofa dejectedly, wagging her tail, easily placated as I stroke her head. She paws at me restlessly, making me giggle. No, I'm not giving you treats either, Soba-chan, however... I jump up too. "Victor? I'm going to take Sobachin for a walk, won't be long."

He sticks his head out. "Want company? I haven't put anything on yet."

I get changed quickly into running things and head back to the kitchen. I kiss him and shake my head. "No, it's okay. Going to go for a run, feel like it."

He smiles and presses a kiss to my forehead before I go. "Okay. Don't be long."

I nod and turn, about to call Sobachin but she's at our feet, excited. Come on then, silly dog.

I shouldn't call her silly really, she's actually very clever. Sobachin's learnt that when Victor and I take her out in our running things, that means she's not allowed to dawdle but that she'll be off the lead as long as she behaves. She's learnt which routes we take, and so which way to go. So she looks confused when I take a different route, heading for the beach, even more confused when I stop at the bench under the lamppost.

I come here, sometimes. I don't always know why. I don't know why now. When Victor first told me where he went that night, I came here because... because some part of me felt like I might finally find him there, would banish away the feeling that I had failed to find him, even though he found me.

Sobachin jumps up on to the bench and waits for me to sit. When I do she lays her head on my lap, wagging her tail, puts a paw on my knee.  _I am protecting you_ , that paw says. I stroke her head, appreciative. Arigato, Soba-chan.

Facing North, the sun has set behind us, and before us the sea will lead to the continent, to South Korea, but that's far, far beyond the horizon.

Korea... Pyeongchang... I smile. I remember Victor competing in the Olympics last year - his fourth; his first he came fifth, at eighteen, and at his second he won Bronze - and how tightly he had held my hand as we waited for his scores in the kiss and cry, and it took a long while for it to sink in that he had become one of very, _very_ few to retain his Olympic Gold, a consecutive Olympic champion. I'd been so nervous, so honoured to be there; I have any been to Sochi once, for my fated first Grand Prix Final. That year, the Winter Olympics had been a key reason for Victor to have one last season. Yurio had messaged me long before, ordering me to make sure we were both there for his first Olympics, he didn't care in what capacity. After the podium, after the Olympic anthem played, Victor seized Yurio and whispered in his ear. I'm the only one, unless Yurio told anyone, and I suspect he didn't, who knows what Victor said to him.

_"Keep going. You've done so well, I'm so proud of you! In four years time, at Beijing, this will be your podium. In four years, the Russian anthem will play for you."_

Yurio... ditto what Victor said.

* * *

* * *

I woke with great reluctance, and with that feeling that  _something_ had woken me up. "Hmmm...?"

On my chest, Victor stirred, but slept on. I smiled down at him, and closed my eyes again. He was exactly where he had fallen asleep, his head on my chest, and his arm over me, his hand limp on the other side of me. Sleepy...

There was a soft knock at the door, and my eyes opened again. Chotto matte... where was I?

I had a split second to realise that we were in my old bedroom, in my tiny old bed, before the door nervously creaked open an inch. "Victor...? Katsudon... -sensei?"

I yelped, because for a moment I thought both Victor and I were completely naked, and grabbed the duvet and tucked it round us protectively as Yurio nervously stuck his head in. "Y-Yurio!"

"Sozhaleyu! I mean -"

"What are you doing?!" I hissed nervously, trying not to wake Victor. My husband frowned in his sleep, murmured something and didn't react further.

Yurio used the door as a shield, looking like he was very much regretting doing what he was doing. "Erm... Minako and Mari sent me to..."

I glared, but not at him. I sighed. I could picture it, them insisting that Yurio find out whether we were okay. Ugh... I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, hid a yawn behind my hand. "What time is it?"

Yurio stuck his head out, an incredulous look on his face. "It's nearly mid-day, Katsudon."

Oh. Kuso... training... "Ah, gomen, Yurio, I mean, sorry, erm..." Yabai, that wasn't fair. We were leaving for the Final in only a couple of days, we could measure our time to practice in hours now.

Yurio waved his hand, unconcerned. "Yuuko-chan did my calisthenics this morning, she sent me back for lunch. Minako said she's free if you want me to practice with her." He looked away, shy. "Is... is everything alright now?"

I smiled, and nodded. It was really awkward, turning my head enough to see him without dislodging Victor, and I was squinting without my glasses. I lifted one free hand and gestured for him to come in. Yurio looked like he was going to for a second, and then he hesitated, wrinkling his nose. "Are... are you guys naked under there?"

... I had to think for a moment. No. I shook my head. As Yurio shut the door, muttering to himself that he'd seen it all before anyway, I looked down at Victor, trying not to blush too much. Not because there was anything to see, the duvet was all the way round him now, but... had we... had he _heard_? _Us, last night_? Yurio showed no sign either way, as he carefully pulled out the chair at my old desk, brought it to the side of the bed and straddled it. I suddenly thought... where was...?

"Sobachin's downstairs, with your dad." Yurio explained. That didn't make me feel particularly relieved. "He's trying to teach her tricks." That was what I was afraid of. He tried to get Vicchan to do all sorts, but Vicchan wasn't interested. I hoped Sobachin wasn't either.

Yurio suddenly scoffed. I blinked... what was that for? Could I ask? He caught me staring and shook his head, silently telling me to not worry, and then... then he changed his mind. "I was just thinking... how strange things turn out."

I was instantly aware that Victor was awake. I didn't know how long for, but at exactly the same moment that I tensed, so did he. We both waited for Yurio to elaborate. "What... what do you mean?"

"Just... just the three of us being here. I've known Victor for years through training, though not... not well at first, and even then... it was weird, when he suddenly upped and left, all because of a Youtube video. I was so pissed when he did that... like everything that we were doing, all our training to be the best, and... his promise to choreograph for me... it was like it all meant nothing. Then when I got here, and he was  _all over you_... I was still pissed." Yurio looked me in the eyes, and I suddenly felt... vulnerable in that green. "You know... he was never like this in Russia. He used to be... stand-offish. He _charmed_ everyone but... I only got it long after. He smiled at most of us the same way he smiled at fans, at reporters. It's only since he met you that he smiles properly with all of us. I never thought it could be like that... you know, two guys I mean..." He blushed then, and I could just hear what he'd trailed off of. It wasn't all sex and pink shirts, no. The last time Victor tried to get me a pink t-shirt I think I glared him out of it.

I... I appreciated the sentiment though, the comfort he was trying to give. I... well, I have no idea how Victor used to be before he met me. He told me once that his entire life back then was the ice, and the odd lover to scratch various itches with. I had figured out for myself that parts of it must have been... well, lonely.

I made a promise to myself, to make sure that Victor never felt lonely again.

"Yuri..." I looked up at my student, waited. His hands fidgeted on the back of the chair. "Th-Thank you... Arigatōgozaimashita."

I smiled, understanding, realising that his mere presence too was one of his strange thing that had turned out. I don't think any of us had ever imagined that Yurio would come back to Hasetsu for this long, that we would be lucky if he visited just to see us all. We're all sorry for why he had, but never sorry _that_ he had. "Anytime, Yuri."

Victor smiled on my chest, and nodded slightly, agreeing. He slowly opened his eyes, looked up at me; Yurio couldn't see, Victor's back was to him. I... It was time to change the subject. We needed to get back to why Yurio was here. "Ne, Yurio... did... have you practiced the... the quad axel?"

Yurio tensed in the chair, staring at me, at Victor, with fear... with guilt. Ah... you had, hadn't you? Slowly, he nodded. "I... Only a couple of times, since the Seoul Grand Prix Final... I... I can't get it right..." His eyes widened. "Did... did you...?"

I sighed. Victor squeezed me a little, never stopped looking up at me.  _It's... it's okay_... "I... I figured it out. Do... I can show you... if you want." I gulped, and then finally lifted my head up. Be his coach, Katsuki Yuri.

"I know how you can win Gold."

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that done... bleach...
> 
> That was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster... going to take a break from this, so soon there will be another addition to the Seasons collection. I'm actually going to post that as a separate piece, and cut the current Seasons into two as well, back to what used to be Emma (now Yuki) and a separate thing for Ame. The lengths are too disparaging, and the honest fact of the matter is that they're not linear at all, so... anyway.
> 
> Be back soon!


	22. Hold Your Colour

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 17

December

_Hold Your Colour_

* * *

* * *

I'm already on my way back when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

> Just put pasta on! x

I smile. Victor's way of telling me I have about ten minutes. That's fine. I was walking, but now I turn to Sobachin and start running again, and she happily meets my pace. She knows we're going home.

"Tadaima!" I call out as I let myself in.

"Okaeri!" Victor answers, calling from the kitchen. I smile. I'm home, and it smells fantastic; I'm starving now.

I kick off my Mizunos and head to the kitchen. Victor looks up and smiles at the sight of me as he stirs sauce in a pan - there's pasta bowls with salad on them already - and then he pulls a face, knowing what's coming. Of course he knows, he does this to me all the time. "Oi!" I grab at him anyway, for a sweaty hug, not that I am all that sweaty, and he holds me out at arms length. "Shower first!"

I whimper and pull a face, my best impression of Sobachin when we deny her something. Usually when he comes in all sweaty from a workout and pulls me in for a smelly hug, I cave and let him. Victor however has better discipline.

"Oh for..." He rolls his eyes, but he's teasing; Victor grabs my head and kisses my forehead quickly, placating me, and then shoves me away. "Hurry up! You've got five minutes!"

That's long enough. Just to wind him up I strip off my jacket and t-shirt as I leave the kitchen, tossing them into the laundry basket by the washing machine, and I grin as I hear him chuckle behind me. "Who do you take after, I wonder?" Victor calls after me, and we both laugh. Who indeed...

I shower quickly, not wasting a single second, but when I turn off the water I pause to sigh; I feel clean, clear. This morning I felt anything but, too heavy with the past. Now, I can stop, and be happy about the present.

I'm surrounded by small, perfect things. In the bathroom alone - the main one, not the ensuite, because it's bigger and we both prefer it - I have the evidence of our lives together. Before I even step out of the shower, our separate bathing products are lined up neatly, and they always make me chuckle. I buy my shower gel and shampoo from the supermarket. Victor's costs a fortune and he has to order it online; he's got two different types of conditioner as well. In the cabinet, out of sight at the moment, is Victor's expansive facial care range... he managed to convince me that I needed to use more things on my face, to prevent wrinkles, but again mine - just a cleanser and moisturiser, because who really has time for more than that in the morning or evening? - is from the supermarket, and apparently is doing a much better job of maintaining my youth than Victor's regime is... he has smile lines. (I love them. He didn't have them when we first met.)

Yet we share the same toothpaste, and the same electric toothbrush; his heads are always marked yellow, mine blue, and he always bemoans the fact that the yellow is as close as he can get to having a gold band on his toothbrush head. And... I may have been converted to his fancier shaving stuff. Victor's stubble is invisible, fair and soft when I kiss his cheeks, whereas mine is... it's annoying, it grows in patches. Victor teased me once by saying he would hide my razor to see what I would look like with a beard... I told him, very seriously, that if he did that I wouldn't go down on him again. Needless to say, the razor is always to be found.

As I step out of the shower, I have more proof of Victor's ways: we have several sets of towels. I'm not just talking about size, but rather... there's the ones we use every day for training, which have all seen better days because they've been washed so many times. They're all slightly smaller, to be carried to the rink and the gym. Then there's the normal day towels for bathing and showering, which are all enormous. Then there's the 'guest' level, ones which are all new and untouched for when Chris or Phichit visit. Yurio used to be in this category when we first moved in, then he got lumped in with the every day, and now that he's back in St Petersburg he's back to guest level again. (They even have colours. Guess who has magenta, who has black, and who has a multi-coloured set?) Then there's the I-want-a-hug-made-of-the-softest-cotton-available-to-man level for whenever we're in that kind of mood. Victor, correctly, thinks today is one of those days, and I smile contentedly as I wrap myself up, and use an everyday towel to dry my hair. Guess who uses the blue towels? Victor's are all different colours, he just comes home with them randomly, at which I then point out that I'm sure we didn't need any more. But it's never once occurred to me to make him return any of them.

What else is there... There's a collection of things for the bath lined up; salts in a jar, Aesop bath oil (for decadence), and someone's gifted bubble bath (some of them are a bit hit and miss, but we do use them, we seem to get them from  _everyone_ ). Candles blown out from our last bath together, a couple of days ago. And just above the head of the bath hangs a sea glass mobile with Gaudí motifs that Victor bought in Barcelona, originally for his bedroom at my parents', then it hung in his apartment catching the sun in St Petersburg, then back to YuTopia, and now it's here, to catch the flames of the candles.

We've lived here over a year now. We've both admitted that there's more to our home of Victor, who arranged almost everything, than of me, but... I've never minded. He asked me about  _everything_ as he worked it all out; the day was for training Yurio, and the evenings were ours to talk about paint, rugs, furniture, pots, pans, lighting. Everything in our home is something that I approved (some of it begrudgingly, because he really wanted it). Some of it amazed me, his ambition for it all; I would never have thought to have the ballet studio, yet at least one of us will use it every day, to choreograph, or just to move, to dance. Programs have been born in that studio; we created many of them together.

I put on a bathrobe and pad out of the bathroom, and this time Victor hugs me back before passing my dinner to me. We eat at the low table under the skylight, Sobachin sprawled out on the rug underneath, eagerly waiting for us to finish because then it's her dinnertime. Until then we just talk, about... well, stuff. Yurio has been in touch, demanding that we confirm our travel plans for the next time we see him. Victor tells me that everything's booked up for it, he's already told Yurio this. We debate whether or not to bring some of Yurio's left behind things with us... we decide against it in the end. Yurio hasn't asked for them, and if he does need them... well, he can come back and pick them up himself; a return visit is overdue.

I feed Soba-chan, leave her to it in the kitchen and go back to Victor. He reaches out for me; I sit next to him instead of across from him, and lean into his embrace, sighing contentedly. "Hmm, you smell nice now," he teases, kissing my still damp hair. I chuckle. He smells of garlic and oregano, very Italian. He smells nice too. He tickles me through my bathrobe. "You planning on getting dressed this evening?"

I look up at him, and shake my head. No... what would be the point of that?

Victor grins, and then wrinkles his nose, apologetic. "I've eaten too much..."

Oh. I pout. Then... I pull a face too. "So have I..." I still want him though.

Victor reaches down and kisses me softly, again, with growing need, and he tugs me up as he leans back to lie on the floor, and I crawl over him, moaning quietly as his fingers thread through my hair. I know it'll all be sticking up oddly tomorrow, and I don't care.

Neither of us notice, busy with getting Victor's clothes off, when Sobachin goes past to the spare room to sit in front of the shrine to her forebears in a huff. She's learnt to leave us alone when we start making noises like that.

* * *

* * *

As Yurio fell on the ice, yet again, with a frustrated cry, I kept my mouth shut. It was for Yuri to give feedback on this... I... I was keeping pointedly quiet. Although... for more self-centred reasons.

I... fuck's sake... just spit it out, Katsuki-Nikiforov...

I... I wasn't comfortable telling Yurio how to get the quadruple axel right... because I didn't know how to do it myself.

Yes, I know. The Living Legend, the Great Victor Nikiforov... couldn't do a jump.

I'd been surpassed. And I was pissed... because it was Yuri who had done it, all by himself. I should have been proud - I wanted to be proud, I really,  _really_ did - but... I was disgusted with myself that I wasn't. I was just annoyed, and annoyed with myself, and overly tempted to remain angry with Yuri about it.

I... Yuri, I'm so sorry... I... it's sickening, remembering this. It was so childish... being so irritated that I couldn't do something that you could. I used to be so proud of you before this, of how you went from being able to do only one quad to being able to match me for consistency across the board by the end of your season with me as your coach. I was so proud because of how far you had come, how hard you had worked to be able to master all of it... proudest because I knew that you did it all for me, because of me. I... I felt like I had made you great, even if I never admitted to myself that I felt like that... but the axel was all yours.

I'd like to say that I felt bad because I couldn't help you with it, but... it really wasn't so noble. I...

Yuri... daisu kete...

* * *

* * *

Daijōbu, anata, daijōbu. Remember how I was at the CSK with Kenjirou-kun? I can't talk, I was far from a model of humility then either.

Time was so short. I kept second-guessing myself... maybe I shouldn't have told Yurio that I could do the quadruple axel... it wasn't like I was perfect at it either. I didn't always land it, couldn't always demonstrate on the first try how to do some element of it. It will take some time before it becomes a staple entry for elite figure skaters.

As it was, I figured it out by accident, how to get the turns in, which was the first hurdle. When I first started, I was frustrated, counting and knowing that I was missing the fourth turn, determined to show Victor in time for our anniversary. I went into the jump with that frustration and threw everything into it, like I wanted to become a tornado and sweep everything away with my ferocity... I slipped on the landing, but... it worked. Four and a half. In fact, on the first go, I threw  _too_ much into it, nearly  _over_ -rotated, which was why I messed up the landing. But I was elated; I just had to do that again, but with greater control, and land.

It was difficult, describing it to Yurio, particularly as his body shape was different from mine. He was shorter than me, had been more muscular until he lost weight during his depression, but he was starting to grow some of that back, and so his dimensions were more square than mine. We had to compensate, to figure out the height, the speed, everything. As though the forward-facing axel jump isn't difficult enough for some skaters.

We changed his programs to fit,  _if_ he wanted to attempt the quad axel, as a back-up, and practiced both versions. I told him not to chance it in his Short Program, deliberately refused to not change a thing, and kept to myself why I didn't want him to do it. If he fell... it would set him back, not just on the scoreboard but in his own head. I wasn't risking that, absolutely not. No matter what, I wanted  _Who You Really Are_ to go well, so Yurio could hold his head up high when he went into his Free Skate. I didn't want him to feel anything like I did, after I touched down on the quad flip at the end of my Grand Prix Final  _Eros_. Not only that but... I didn't want some of his fellow competitors to realise the game had changed. The triplets were filming, but not up-loading, by their own censor. They understood the stakes just as well as the rest of us.

And... I really wasn't sure if he ought to try the jump at all...

It had taken so much just to get him to a point where, as a whole, his Free Skate... well, could stand a chance of winning. I didn't like banking on a jump that no one had attempted in competition - officially, there was no record of it being successfully attempted  _at all_ \- but... I'd been doing the math. It would be a matter of a handful of points... JJ's programs were packed solid; he would have to majorly mess up to miss the podium, and... he was competing on home ground; the Final was in Vancouver. We couldn't afford to bank on him messing up in any case. The quad axel would just tick Yurio over... as long as he got the highest PCS of his career.

... No problem...  _kuso_...

I was worried it was too much pressure. What Yurio wanted to accomplish... even if Nicolai were still alive, if Yurio was still training with Yakov... it was no small thing what Yurio wanted to do. He wanted to win the Grand Prix Final... and plenty more besides. I couldn't ever accuse Yurio of not being ambitious. But he was only eighteen... nineteen in a few months. He had no family left, and the only friends he had were scattered across the globe, and when he next saw some of them it was to defeat them. This wasn't normal or ordinary... we could have set our sights smaller, focused on the Russian Nationals instead, built up for the Europeans, the Worlds... but Yurio never did compromise.

I felt very proud of us then, Victor and I. What we had done, taking Yurio in... that was no small thing either. I've never regretted it, would ever regret it, have never seen it as an inconvenience. We had the luxury of being able to devote our energies to him, even with what was going on in our lives, to find purpose through Yurio. But... we could have done a lot less, and not thought anything of it. We could have left him in St Petersburg with Yakov, and just kept tabs on him. Who knows what would have happened, but... it felt right at the time. It still felt right then... still feels right now.

Which is about as good an answer as you're going to get out of me when people ask 'why did you take your former rival Yuri Plisetski in?'.

So we pressed on, until the final minute.

As for Victor and I...

... Victor?

* * *

* * *

Yuri... I'm going to need to correct you, moya lyubov'. We made sure that we never treated Yurio like he was an inconvenience. But that day... that day he was.

Because I wanted to take you home.

But... I can't complain too much. (I'm going to anyway.)

After Yuri and I finally left YuTopia, we followed Yurio to Ice Castle. I squeezed Yuri's hand before he went back on to the ice, to demonstrate the quad axel for our student. Yuuko was there, and I was relieved when I realised that she didn't know either, was shocked to watch too. She admitted that she'd known that Yuri was working on something, but she'd never guessed what; every now and then Yuri would ask to have the ice to himself, to make sure that the triplets were nowhere near the rink. She looked so apologetic, having seen me so upset the day before... I surprised her with a hug, thanking her for her concern, and then laughed as I went to get her tissues. I teased her then; really, after all this time? We both laughed then.

Meanwhile, Yurio had a rant at Yuri. Everything that he said... he had a point. But I was more annoyed that he got to say some of it first. Yuri looked at me as some of it hit home, knowing... knowing that we would need to talk again.

But... I was exhausted. It had been a long couple of days, and all I wanted was to feel safe and happy in my husband's arms. We went home with Sobachin, ran a bath together and...

"What do you want to do in Vancouver?" I asked, digging my thumbs deep in between Yuri's shoulder blades, making him moan contentedly.

He leant back into my hands. "Hmm... do?"

I chuckled, and nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Hai, Yuri, 'do'. We'll have time to kill there before the competition, unless you're intending to find another roof top somewhere for Yurio to practice."

Yuri leant back entirely, his back to my chest, his head on my shoulder so that his temple rested against my cheek. "I remember we used that roof top for more than practicing..."

I burst out laughing. "Yuri, we're not going to Canada and just have sex."

"Why not?" He teased, chuckling too.

I picked up his hands and wrapped our arms round him. "Insatiable, you."

Yuri reached up and kissed my chin. "You should see my husband, you would be too."

I felt a little bad then, because any other time I'd tease him back with the same, but... I moved and kissed him back properly, chastely. Not tonight, moya lyubov'. Tonight just hold me. Yuri paused, got the hint, answered my kiss with his own again to tell me it was okay, and tightened my hold around him. Then he frowned. "Victor... let's switch."

I smiled, nodded, and we awkwardly moved around so he was behind me, and I closed my eyes as he wrapped himself around me, kissing my temple tenderly. Yuri went through the bottles of bath oils on the side, picked the Aesop - when we stayed at the Park Hyatt in Tokyo, years ago, we'd nicked all of the tiny bottles in the bathroom, and when we inevitably ran out of the heavy, rich scent I bought more, and it's become a permanent fixture - and used a little on my back, massaging my shoulders too, concentrating on the task more than I had, not absent-mindedly. I was so tired I almost fell asleep, he had to whisper my name softly to bring me back.

Lying on our sides in bed, dressed, I kissed him again and again, until my hand found its way up the back of his t-shirt, and he did the same. But... "Victor... I'm tired too... it's okay."

I smiled, kissed him anyway. "I don't think we ever really made out like this..."

Yuri chuckled, and nodded, kissed me back. "We skipped that stage..."

"See? Insatiable you."

He laughed properly. "Are you complaining, anata?" I shook my head emphatically, and he laughed again. I love making him laugh. I used to hear him laugh when he was FaceTiming Phichit, before we got together. Then he started laughing for me and it was an amazing feeling.

After all my anger and hurt, and shame from watching Yuri train Yurio that day, I felt... toxic. Like I had gunk in my blood, and it was making me sick, tired. I... I needed that, I needed Yuri's love. The ultimate cure-all, his unconditional smile, even when I'm at my lowest, when I'm making myself disgusted. My hand gripped on to his t-shirt. Don't cry, Victor...

Yuri pulled his hand out of my shirt and tucked the duvet around us tighter, ran his fingers through my hair to push my fringe back and kneaded lightly at my neck. "How do you want to sleep tonight?" He asked me gently.

Before I could answer, Sobachin trotted in, yawned and then sprawled on the bed on the other side of Victor, trapping him in. We both laughed at her, but in answer she put her head on my shoulder, licked my ear and Yuri's hand as he reached to stroke her head. Then she re-settled, her back spooning in a crescent against mine. The most natural answer would be to spoon her, but... I shuffled down into Yuri's shoulder, and he turned enough to make it comfortable for both us, like last night. My hand stayed up his t-shirt, but on his stomach instead, and he placed his own hand over the top, anchoring me, telling me it was all okay.

I felt vulnerable, naked... all my life I had never felt comfortable having my happiness so contingent on someone else, being in a position where someone could both hurt and comfort me in equal measure. Yuri, what had you done to me to make me need you like this?

Whatever you had done, I thought as I closed my eyes and fell asleep, don't change it all back. It was so lonely before you.

* * *

* * *

"Is he alright?"

My eyes widened at Yurio's question. I looked over at Victor, who was chatting with Minako-sensei and Yuuko-chan. I instantly saw why Yurio was asking.

"He's being fake again."

My heart sank. He was right. Later both women would come up to me and ask how Victor was doing, both looking worried still.

"The fight was about the axel... wasn't it?" Yurio asked quietly, so none of them would overhear.

I flinched, made sure not to hang my head. Victor would notice. "Yes..."

Yurio narrowed his eyes, stared at me shrewdly. "Katsu... I don't have to do the jump, if it..." He trailed off awkwardly.

I sighed. I knew what he was trying to say; 'if it would affect you and Victor'. "Don't worry, Yurio. Victor and I... that's between us, it's not about you."

He scoffed. "He was  _furious_ when I -"

"That was because you had no idea what you were doing," I interrupted, and stared him down. Victor had been right to be angry with Yurio back in Seoul. "This is... different. This isn't about being able to do it or not, it's..." I sighed, debated whether or not to tell him. Be honest, and he'll be honest back, I told myself. "It's because I didn't tell him I could do it. I lied... for a long time. That's why we fought."

Yurio was silent for a while, with nothing to contribute. Then... "I do get it. Why he was angry with me." I turned my head, to give him my attention properly. I'd never heard Yurio talk about Seoul, about losing the Grand Prix Final to Victor that year. "It was stupid, I know, and... you didn't see him, at the hospital, when you fell. I'd never seen him like that, even Yakov was shaken. Why'd you think he let Victor come back to Hasetsu so quickly when he was training again?"

"I..." I had never thought of that. I had known how much Victor missed me, I had missed him so badly too, but... I never realised that Yakov... well...

"Victor wasn't the same," Yurio carried on. The corner of his mouth begrudgingly twitched upward. "That's a good thing. He's happy. I don't think any of us realised that he wasn't happy before he met you. Before he... he just was." He shrugged, and I stared, amazed. It's always weird, hearing about Victor's life before... well, before me. Then Yurio moved the subject on. "He wishes you didn't retire as well... doesn't he?"

That... cut. But... "Yes..."

"Did you retire so that he would skate again?" Yurio asked bluntly.

I frowned. "No."

He nodded, accepting that. "I wish you hadn't either. I was so angry with you for getting injured like that, for quitting. I'm still angry... you should have been competing all this time too. It was meant to be the two of us, y'know? Like Victor had Christophe all those years. Instead I had to settle for him skating  _your_ programs. Now I've got to skate against Shithead."

Shithead? Oh, JJ. I chuckled. "And now  _you're_ skating  _my_ programs... how does that feel?"

Yurio frowned. I don't think he'd stopped to consider that. "I don't know... fine, I guess." He looked away, annoyed at being caught out by the question. Then he remembered. "It's weird though... Kenjirou and Guang Hong are skating your stuff too, but... it's all really different."

I nodded. "Of course."

"Are you hoping they'll win too?"

I thought quickly about how honest I ought to be. "Yes and no..." I cleared my throat as Yurio looked up at me, surprised that I hadn't told him that I just wanted him to win. "I want Kenjirou-kun to enjoy himself, and for that to be recognised and count for something. Likewise I want Guang Hong to feel like all his hard work has paid off, and it already has; he's never qualified for the Final before, that alone is an amazing achievement. But Gold..." I shrugged. "There's only one Gold medal. And you're the only one that I want to win it." And I nodded to the centre of the ice. "So let's crack on. From the top."

Yurio stared at me for a second and then scoffed, downplaying what I'd said, but got into position, took a deep breath and began again, focusing on making every motion perfect. I meanwhile focused on watching him, and not trying to find my husband.

The night before we were due to fly to Vancouver... we... well, Yurio was as ready as he could have been. It was December, and he had only really started training in June. Most skaters had already started training before the last season was over, indeed Yurio  _had_ been prepping his original programs back in February and March. We were just going to have to live with the decision we collectively made to start over. All things considered, he already had a Silver and Bronze medal out of the season thus far, on programs that weren't quite ready. No matter what, he could hold his head high with that, even if he didn't achieve what he was hoping for.

But I was being pessimistic. I hid it from him. As for Victor... I wasn't the only one hiding.

He had retreated from me, from everyone. With everyone else, Victor put on a front, put all his energy into it. When we got home, he'd slump, exhausted, and be quiet, withdrawn. At night he slept in my arms however, seeking silent comfort. And every night, he slept badly; I woke every morning and knew that he'd been awake for hours, just hadn't moved so he didn't wake me. I whispered to him that I was right there, both a reminder and an invitation; a reminder that I loved him and wasn't going anywhere, and an invitation to say what was troubling him. He accepted the reminder, kissing me and hugging me... he didn't accept the invitation.

Until he woke me up in the middle of the night.

Even in his sleep, he was so tense his body was as stiff as a board, and he was shaking in my arms from nightmares. "Victor..." It took so long to wake him up, I had to shout instead of whisper. When he finally woke the first thing he did was look down, toward... oh Victor... toward my legs. He frowned at the sight of the duvet over them, obscuring his view, and then at the rest of the room. Anata, you weren't in the hospital in St Petersburg, you were at home with me and Sobachin, who was barking and whimpering with fear for you.

"Yu... ri..."

I held him tightly as he collapsed back on to my chest, still as tightly drawn as before, shivering. "I'm here, anata, I'm here..." His only answer was to fist my t-shirt, clinging on. "Victor... please... what's wrong...?"

He didn't answer. But at least he didn't pretend that nothing was wrong. After a while he murmured about getting a glass of water, and got up, pulling himself out of my arms without looking at me. I sat up in bed, watched his departing back, watched as Sobachin went after him, still fussing. "Soba, it's okay..." Victor, of all of us, Sobachin in particular knows when you're lying, even when she was still just a puppy; she can smell it on you. I waited for him to come back, to make him talk to me... was he still angry with me? Was he still upset with me? Why was he so unhappy? Why was he... why was he  _depressed_?

But he didn't come back to bed. I heard him open the door to the ballet studio, and shut it behind him, shutting Sobachin out. She whimpered at the door, then barked, adamant about being let in. I sat there, frozen, shocked... I...

I jumped out of bed so quickly I stumbled. Then I paused at the door as I shivered, but with cold... how the hell was Victor not cold too? Or... he was, wasn't he... I grabbed the throw on top of the duvet, wrapped it round me and flew to the studio doors, and -

Stopped short. I shouldn't just barge in... shouldn't force my way in...

"Victor..." Within, I heard a sharp intake of air. He was crying... "Anata, onegai... can I come in?"

* * *

* * *

... I couldn't help it...

I was having nightmares again. You know the one.

I wanted to talk. Hang on, no... I wanted to talk to _Yuri_. But... I didn't know how to. I didn't know how to begin to explain. I didn't understand why...

It had been over two years ago. Why did it hurt so much still? Why did it hurt  _me_ so much still, or not... why was _I_ like this, and not Yuri? It had been he who fell...

I dropped my head into my folded arms on my knees, ashamed. It had been Yuri who fell, not me... it _shouldn't_ hurt this much.

"Moya..." I mumbled into my own cocoon.  _Just stop it, Victor. Let him in. At least_ try _to talk to him... you hate seeing him like this, imagine how he hates seeing you like this too... let him in..._ "Yuri..." My head rose by itself and my beloved's name called out before I could think again.

He hesitated at the door, and then slowly slid it open, poked his head in uncertainly. I heard Sobachin panting at his side, heard her scramble at the opening, not enough to slip in. "Victor...?"

_Please..._

After a moment, he put a hand out to stay Sobachin, and slipped in, closed the door behind him. He looked... he looked like a yeti or something, wrapped up in the throw; it was white, knitted wool. He came over slowly, and folded to his knees right at my side, and hugged me before I could say anything. He was so warm... I finally noticed how cold I was. "You're shivering, Anata."

He sat as close as he could at my side, facing me, and threw the throw around me, tucking it around him too so we were wrapped up together, his legs sticking out behind me. My toes dug into the wool, and his hand rubbed my back for warmth. It worked. "Gomen, Yuri..."

Yuri shook his head emphatically, and his hand came away from my back to cup my cheek. "Nothing to be sorry for, Anata. What's wrong?"

The moon was out, and my husband looked so beautiful in the winter moonlight. It was so cold that I could see our breaths. He hadn't put his glasses on, and he had bed hair. And he was looking at me like he loved me... and it made things feel so much worse, which in itself felt traitorous... I couldn't look at him...

I leant forward, into Yuri's embrace, and hid my face into his shoulder. He let me, his fingers sliding into my hair, and he rocked me slightly.  _Just say it... once you start, it'll get easier... just say it_... "I can't stop thinking of the hospital..."

Yuri stopped rocking me for a second, as that sunk in, and then he carried on, humming soothingly. "Why, anata?"

A sob escaped out of me. "I don't know..."

I had to open my eyes, even if it meant I had a view of his t-shirt, so that I couldn't see it all again. Him in a hospital bed, looking frightened and unprotected, scared because he didn't know what was going on around him because it was all in Russian and though he was trying to learn it was all very basic still. Scared because he didn't know what was going to happen in the next second, in the next hour, in the next day, week, month, year... he always looked so relieved whenever he saw me, whenever I gave his hand a squeeze to remind him that I was there with him.

Yuri hadn't been... he hadn't been dying. He was in pain, considerable pain, but... I wasn't  _losing_ him then. I... it certainly wasn't as though he would never walk again, skate again. I didn't... _why did it hurt so much...?_

I had never hurt so much as -

_... Oh..._

Finally,  _finally_... the penny dropped, and my thoughts reshuffled into the right sequence. I slowly raised my head out of Yuri's shoulder, trying to hold on to the epiphany... was that why...?

I had never hurt so much as I had when I watched Yuri suffer. I had never cared about anyone in my life so much that it could hurt me to such a degree that I suffered too. I had no idea what to do when that happened... and it  _terrified_ me... terrified me that... that I  _could_ be hurt like that. It was _frightening_ , letting someone that close, so close that they could cut me that deeply, simply by going through something horrific themselves and having to witness it. I had spent my entire life before Yuri in a cloud of vague indifference, my vision focused exclusively ahead on my skating and winning gold, and scratching itches in the breaks. No one had ever mattered, no one had ever made such a profound difference to me... and...

I was petrified. I didn't want to hurt like that, all because of someone else... I didn't want my happiness to be in someone else's hands... I...

"Victor?"

Wait... _what the fuck was I thinking...?_

Yuri stroked my hair back out of my face, ducked a little to meet my eyes. He smiled a little as he found me. "There you are..." He whispered. His breath ghosted over my face... there you are too...

That's right... I didn't want my happiness to be in someone else's hands. Only yours. Only yours and mine. Just...

"I'm scared..."

Yuri's smile dissolved, and he shuffled closer, not that he could get any closer. "Scared of what?" He asked quietly.

Tears fell down my cheeks, or rather... I realised I'd already been crying, and more fell down. "Of seeing you like that again..."

Yuri sniffed, and I realised he was crying too. My face fell, and he started, and tried to wipe them away. "Gomen, I... I hate seeing you cry... it's really hard not to cry too..."

 _I hate seeing you cry_... I almost wanted to laugh, absurdly. It was stupidly relieving... it wasn't just me. I took his damp hand, held on tight. "I love you too..."

Yuri's eyes widened, and then he smiled, understanding. "I love you too too..." We both chuckled weakly. He then pushed his forehead against mine. "Is that why... why you remember it so often, because you're scared of it happening again?" He asked gently. I nodded after a moment. That was a simple way of putting it. When I could speak again I'd try and explain it better. "I'm sorry, anata..." He sighed, pushed up and kissed my forehead. "You know... I don't remember much of the hospital. It's all a blur. It's really not like I want to remember. But... I remember you. I remember you being there, and feeling so much better because you were there. I always thought... I really,  _really_ hope that you never get hurt like that too, but... if life is that much of a bastard and it does happen... I'll be there for you like that too - Victor!"

I started sobbing, and fell back into his shoulder. But... not because I was unhappy. I wasn't happy either, far from, but... yes. Please be there for me too. I realised Yuri was still speaking, softly, rocking me tenderly. "... You took such good care of me, Victor... you always have... I love you so much... I -" And then he choked on his own tears. "I'm so sorry for putting you through that..."

I seized him, and we both clung to each other, in the cold moonlight. When finally it felt like I had run out of tears, at least for now, I whispered to him. "I told you already... remember?"

He nodded, hiccoughed as he reined his tears in. "D-Do it all over again... right?"

I nodded too, didn't let go. "Hmm. All over again."

His hand went back into my hair, soothing on my scalp. "That doesn't mean you have to relive it so often though..."

I deflated a little in his arms. That was true... "I... I know." I shuffled a little in his hold, but not to loosen him, just to get comfortable. I... I felt safe. "Yuri..."

"Hmm?" He sniffed, and he rubbed my back. I smiled at the comfort it gave me.

"You're the only one I've ever loved like this."

I couldn't see it, but I might as well have seen his eyes widen, because I felt him smile, felt how much tighter his embrace became. "You too, anata."

"But... that means you're the only one who can hurt me more than anyone else..."

He froze in our embrace, turned rigid. I rubbed his back in return.

"You've also made me happier than anyone else in the world, happier than anyone else can."

Yuri sighed with relief after a second as it sunk in. "Kimi mo... kimi mo..." He shuffled in my arms too, so we were forehead to forehead again. "In... in that case... can we focus on that then, on making each other happy, and try not to do the other? At all, but definitely not too much."

I smiled as best as I could. "That... that sounds like a good plan."

We both chuckled. It sounded so simple, obvious, stupid even, when we put it like that. Just be happy, not sad. Of course, it's not that simple, but... it was a place to start.

After the Grand Prix Final, Yuri made me bite the bullet, and we went to see the doctor about my knees. Whilst Yurio started training for the Russian Nationals, the Europeans and the World Championships, I had my operation. The surgeon gave me quite a scolding, but it was in Japanese and I was glad that mine wasn't good enough to understand everything that he was saying so quickly. I did gather that if I had left it any longer I would have seriously screwed up my legs. I remember waking from the op, and Yuri smiling down at me, saying good morning even though it turned out it was the middle of the afternoon. I finally understood why he didn't remember much from the hospital in St Petersburg; I don't either, I just remember him, and how it felt like the sun had come out.

Whilst I was in physio, I bit the other bullet, and started seeing a therapist. He was very patient with my Japanese, and talked about how to deal with trauma. He told me to think of the memories as a DVD, to be watched on a TV screen, to be picked out and examined when I choose, but to not be lazy about watching, because otherwise I won't learn anything. Save it all to disk, because it isn't really real anymore; you are in the present, not the past; the past is not really being lived again. It's okay to feel, when I do watch that DVD, but... not such degree that I feel like, in the present, I need to run from it, or hide, or be scared of something coming from around the corner. If you think it'll help, write it down, he said, but write it _down_ , commit it to the page. Again, it's not happening now, stop being scared as though it is.

After every session Yuri picked me up with a smile, held my hand without a care for the world watching, and took me to wherever I needed or wanted to be. Sometimes that was home. Sometimes that was Nagahama Ramen, to eat. Sometimes it was his parents', to be around family. Sometimes it was the beach, to talk.

Why do you think I'm writing this? Why we're both writing this, together...?

This might never see the light of day. In fact, I know it won't. But at least we wrote it for us.

* * *

* * *

... I think sometimes that I'm prouder of you for all of that, than I am of all your medals. Actually... no, I am.

My beautiful, beautiful husband. How blessed I truly am.

Things were not instantly cured that night, nor did I expect them to be. I wrapped my Victor up and held him close and shared my warmth until he could suggest we return to bed himself, and then he nested in my arms again, and he stopped pretending that he couldn't sleep still. We talked some more, about many things. I stayed up with him, for as long as I could, and when I woke in the morning he was finally asleep.

As I gazed down at his sleeping face, so perfect to me, I wondered... perhaps this was a long time coming, and the thought broke my heart a little. I'm not sure whether Victor ever realised this himself, but he once described to me how he was feeling the year before he came to Hasetsu. I looked back on his performances of  _Stay Close To Me_ , stripped out my own interpretation of it and the lyrics and everything and just  _watched him_. And realised... he had been terribly lonely then. I know him, I know my Victor, and I know that there was a lot of honesty in his performances, more than he ever wanted to admit. As flattering as it is to think that he came to Hasetsu just for me, I think... I think he was running as well.

Eventually Victor would tell me, on the beach, curled up into my side after a particularly gruelling session with his Yoda (his description, not mine), that... that when I fell, he was terribly afraid that he would be returned to that state of loneliness. It was a threat to our futures, my injury, my retirement... I wonder... if I had gone back to skating instead of choreographing, would things have been different for him? But then, he always reminds me, that would have created its own problems. I didn't want to go back; I would have resented it, if I had had to, for whatever reason. No regrets, he tells me, because we're here, together, and everything about our lives is the proof of it.

Still... what I would give, to spare you all of it.

Eventually, as time ticked and I knew we had to get up soon to get ready to pick up Yurio, I picked waking him over leaving him, knowing that he'd rather wake up with me there than wake up alone. I got Sobachin to do the dirty work, and she happily clambered up the bed to lick Victor's face until he frowned at the wet dog kisses and opened his eyes to push her away.

I debated, for a moment, to ask if he wanted to stay behind. Did he really want to come for the Final, now that... well. But I think, whilst I was asleep, Victor had come to a decision of his own; he got up with determination, showered, made breakfast, got ready. At the door, in a thick parka coat, he turned to me with the best smile he could manage. "Let's go win that Gold medal for Yurio," he said, meaning it.

I marched over and kissed him, wrapped my arms round his neck and stood on my tiptoes to be level, and he hummed contentedly into my mouth until I nodded, our noses brushing. "Iku, anata."

I held his hand in the taxi to Fukuoka International next to Yurio, who pointedly smiled and then put his headphones on. I kept my hand on his shoulder as we checked in our luggage, as we waited for Kenjirou-kun and Odagaki-sensei. I was his pillow on the short transfer to Narita. At every moment when I was sure that no one was watching, I held his hand or kissed his cheek, leant into his embrace every time he offered. And after our late afternoon flight to Vancouver International took off, and the seatbelt sign was off, I got out of my seat and curled up in Victor's lap for as long as I could get away with before I got told by the flight attendants to go back to my own seat.

"I'm okay, Yuri," Victor scolded me gently, but with a smile, his arms tight around me anyway.

"I know," I replied, and kissed his temple. "Who said this was for you?"

He chuckled and nuzzled into my collarbone. "Baka. Hmm, arigato..."

I caught the glare of one of the flight attendants. He raised an eyebrow, and then a single finger. I smiled; a minute would do for now. "What are you going to do now? Watch movies?"

Victor shook his head. "No, I'm going to try and get some sleep, we all should. It'll be morning when we arrive, let's try and beat the jet-lag." We both glanced at Odagaki-sensei, who had had that exact same idea, and was already horizontal, tucked in with her blanket, and an eye mask on. "What about you?"

"Hmm, I was thinking of... your laptop is in your bag, right? Okay to borrow it?"

Victor nodded, and pointed to the right overhead locker. "What do you need it for?" I told him, and he smiled. "Okay. Of course. I thought you didn't like it?"

I shrugged. "I like some bits, not all of it. I might skip some of it. It's been in my head for the last few days, want to see why."

He frowned at that, but nodded. "Okay. Talk to me after?"

I shook my head. "Only if you're awake, anata. Don't stay up."

He nodded, conceding, and rubbed his hand over my leg on top of his. "I'm glad we upgraded Minami-kun and Odagaki-sensei. I'm glad you thought of that, that was a nice thing to do." I shrugged. I well remembered flying economy with him, and him moaning for days after about cricks in his neck. And I'd just got a pay check from  _The King and the Skater II_... I was feeling generous. "Although it would have been nice to kick them out of their seats so we could snuggle together properly in coach."

I laughed in his face. "You've got rose-tinted glasses on, I remember you complaining."

Victor shrugged. "We had to do a lot more transfers though, back in the day. Hey, when we get back, let's look up where we can actually fly directly from Fukuoka. When the season's over let's go on holiday, somewhere that's not a pain to get to."

I smiled widely. "Definitely." I kissed him properly then, sealing the plan. I too wanted to look forward to something after it was all over. "I've got to go sit now..."

Victor's hold on me tightened for a moment, but he nodded. "Okay. Don't stay up, moya, get some sleep too."

I nodded. "I will. You too." I kissed him one last time, to last for the flight, and then got up, made a fuss over him as he tilted the seat back, tucked the blanket around him and watched as his eyes disappeared under the eye mask too, stroked his hair back out of the catch of the mask and pressed a final kiss to his forehead. I retrieved his bag from the overhead, got his laptop and put his bag back up, and took my seat again. Across, Yurio and Kenjirou-kun were chatting away over the back of Yurio's seat, but I couldn't hear over the hum of the plane.

Early on in our relationship, during cold nights in Hasetsu and St Petersburg before going to sleep, Victor had shown me  _New York I Love You_ , which he said he appreciated more the older he got, and the more he began to understand love. Personally I found the anthology very hit and miss, but could appreciate the ambition of it; that many directors all with their different visions and highly limited resources and time. But I didn't understand all of the stories, but... I thought I could finally appreciate one of them better than I had at the time.

_"You know, this is what I've always liked about New York. These little moments on the sidewalk, smoking. Thinking about your life - makes you appreciate the city better. You can watch the buildings, you can feel the air and look at the people... sometimes meet someone you feel like you can talk to."_

_"And you can talk about what?"_

_"Things you can say to a stranger. You know, when there's no past, there's no guilt. Have you ever made love to a perfect stranger?"_

_"Now you're teasing me!"_

_"... I believe I am!"_

I finally understood why Victor liked the film, even though it surprised him that it did. This particular scene in question is laced, right from the start, with chemistry, with flirtation, but also with pain both being hidden and exposed. There's flickers of vulnerability, of sensitivity even. And right at the end... I finally understood why the wife cries as her husband tells her he loves her. Love can hurt, can make a person raw. But...

Victor, I hope I will never be so foolish as to not see you, that you'll never do that to me either. I hope we'll still go out for dinners together, and say that we love each other, and laugh and talk... and forget our underwear too. And one day, we'll bug each other about lifting our feet and breaking our hips and killing each other by taking the stairs.

At the end, having laughed more this time around and been touched more than I had expected, I shut his laptop and got out of my seat again, and knelt before my own beloved husband, gently took his hand, to see if he was awake. After a moment his fingers gripped mine and he lifted the corner of the eye mask up to peer at me. "Am... am I bothering you?"

He frowned for a second, and then lightened, smiled gently and shook his head. "Not at all."

I smiled as so many ideas went through my head. Like we did in Barcelona, I was going to take advantage of Vancouver and have a good time with my husband, even though we were meant to be there for Yurio. I didn't care if our charge didn't understand, besides I was sure he would want some time to himself as well, with Otabek and Mila and everyone. I wanted to make sure that even when I had things that I needed to do, responsibilities and duties, this would always be true...

"I love you," I whispered to him, threading my fingers through his, pressing a kiss to his palm.

Victor reached over with his other hand, tangled our hands together. "I love you too."

* * *

* * *

To be continued...


	23. Interlude - The Edge of the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REACHED 5,000 HITS FOR MEMOIR TODAY!!! :-D URESHĪ!!!
> 
> In recognition, here's one of those '5 times when...'
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who's been reading this, in particular a handful of individuals who comment and make me smile and that I hope to get to know better and cheer for your Real Lives, as much as the confines of internet anonymity will allow. Were it not for ALL of you, this story might never have been this long, and I might never have kept it up either.
> 
> I'm going to miss this, when it's all over. Every time I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, I smile first. This is the last Interlude.
> 
> So please, keep reading, please send love and encouragement in the form of kudos and bookmarks and most of all comments where I get to put a voice to the stats. It gets me through my crappy job, reminds me that I'm not so terrible at something I'm passionate about!
> 
> Reader, wherever you are in the world, know that in the cafe that I'm writing this from, on my day off, I really do wish you the best.
> 
> Kei Katayama x

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

INTERLUDE

_The Edge of the Ice_

* * *

  _"On or at the ice's edge, on the grand stage as it were, rather than random photos on social media snapped by strangers, these two have kissed in public only four times..."_

Guard Heradi,  _Everything on the Ice, Life and Love: Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuri_

* * *

_1_

Beijing

* * *

* * *

It's arguable which day was the day that my life irrevocably changed. For Victor, he says it was the Sochi Banquet; at his most graphic, he compares it to having his heart ripped out of his chest to be shown that it was in fact still beating, and having it shoved back in and feeling his blood flow _hot_ again.

Eh... what a lovely image that conjures... he told me it over lunch. Liver and chives, of all things...

Anyway, the point being that, if we hadn't danced that night, nothing would have happened. It would have meant very little when my rendition of  _Stay Close To Me_ went viral. Victor would have had no reason to seek me out, though he admits he doesn't know how he would have felt. Peeved maybe, of being plagiarised? Or honoured, for having inspired a former competitor? A mix of the two probably, and then he would have forgotten about it.

The idea of that makes me shudder. It's still embarrassing, but I'm so glad for Oto-san's Kyushu drunkeness. I'm so glad that... that the above isn't what happened, that... I... ugh, no, I can't bear to think of how things might have been...

This is how it was: the exact moment that my  _world_ changed was undoubtedly -

_Is he mad? Is he crying? Which is it?!_

My arms were raised awkwardly for the screaming crowd (I... I didn't do too badly, had I, if they were cheering for me so loudly... right?) and I was trying to twist enough to see where Victor -

Victor was running to the kiss and cry, his coat trailing like a hero's cloak. Instantly I was moving toward him, without a second thought. I needed him... even though he'd upset me so badly earlier -  _you can't leave me_ , I had thought,  _not yet, not when we've... when we've barely begun, when I haven't... haven't moved..._ \- and even though he probably had some harsh criticisms of all the jumps I'd messed up and...

I just needed him. I needed Victor. I needed his eyes on me.

When I had enough speed I just glided in toward him, my arms raised in genuine triumph. He came to an untidy halt at the open barrier, his gloved hand on the edge. I couldn't read his face, but... it was different to how he'd been after the CSK... he wasn't frowning at least.

"Victor! I did great, right?"

He looked up at me... _Oh_... _you looked so beautiful, anata_... I'll never forget this fleeting moment, the last before -

Victor's face morphed fast into determination as he leapt toward me, throwing his body recklessly toward mine.

My heart stopped. I though he was going to just hug me, but... the angle was all wrong... and I was worried that he was going to fall. Instinctively my arms moved forward, to catch him...

When I realised exactly where he was aiming, my eyes widened... and his slid shut.  _WHAT THE F-_

I didn't notice how tightly his right arm was round my shoulders, his left hand at the back of my head to hold me in place. All I noticed was the smother of his mouth on mine, full force, and how alarmingly close his face was to mine. Oh... so this was... this was what it felt like... it... it felt... it felt nice...

Then as soon as it began, Victor's kiss was over as his eyes wrenched open and he moved his head and tightened his hold on me when he realised we were going to fall. My arms finally woke up and grabbed on to him as I realised the same and I grunted as the ice slammed into my back...  _ittai_...

The scream of the audience came back - oh god, everyone had  _seen_ , why were they cheering  _louder_? - and I blinked. Did... did that really just happen? I was still holding Victor on top of me, and I realised then that he was still cradling my head. Then he leant up and hovered over me with a smile I had never seen before. Like... like he was so happy he could cry.

"This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you've surprised me."

My old world ended with Victor smiling at me, and my new one started with him smiling at me too, so very very tenderly. "Ah... so..." I smiled back.

I had a blissful second of just the two of us on that ice, of seeing nothing but the blue of his eyes and feeling the tickle of his hair dangling on to my forehead... before... it all caught up with me. I'd just finished my Free Program at the Cup of China, and  _everyone_ had just seen Victor Nikiforov kiss Katsuki Yuri...

... _Ē to_...

* * *

* * *

_2_

Boston

* * *

* * *

I couldn't stop crying. I kept laughing at myself, because the tears just wouldn't stop. I was so happy... ureshī...

Yuri was the World Champion. Officially Number 1 in the world. My boyfriend, partner, fiancé even, he'd won the Gold medal at the World Championship in Boston.  _I was so proud it was embarrassing_...

Chris was laughing at me too. He was in good cheer, considering. Things were awkward between us then, but in that moment all bygones were bygones and he still thought I was an idiot and was happy to tell me. I felt bad for him; he had missed the podium, less than a point behind Otabek Altin, who had won a second Worlds Bronze. Chris would admit, a long while later, that perhaps he should have retired sooner, to have ended his career as Number 2 to Victor Nikiforov, his long time rival and friend, not Number 4 to the likes of Katsuki Yuri and Yuri Plisetski. But nevertheless he was taking it well, being surpassed, because this time his programs were flawless; he could retire knowing that his last performances were the best they could have been, and that on the night the best men won. Chris had spent the season watching as the two Yuri's grew from strength to strength; our time on the podium was over. He had been beaten fair and square.

He plucked a tissue out of the Makkachin box and handed it to me as the Japanese anthem played. On the ice, atop the podium, tears were streaming down my Yuri's face too, and I could tell his hands, holding his bouquet, were shaking. To his right, Yurio was holding his head up proudly, the slimmest of smiles on his face. The silly boy looked the least grumpy he had been all season; he'd sulked on the European podium, annoyed that he couldn't compete against his friends and had to settle for Chris, Michele and Emil. To the left of the two Yuri's was Otabek, also with his chin held up high. He had every right to be proud; he'd come fifth in the Grand Prix Final, burnt himself out to win Gold at the Four Continents against my Yuri, Phichit and JJ, and his exotic style had finally received the greater recognition it deserved. Keep going, I thought, show the world more.

It's a pity, the nature of sport, our sport; there can be only one winner, so to speak. Yet to make it to this level is so extraordinary... we forget all of that in the glint of the gold we seek. There is no shame in any other colour, in missing the podium entirely (though perhaps I am not one to talk. I worked very, very hard to make sure I never had to give myself this speech again). Only one anthem will play at the end of the night, but the Boston TD Garden arena was adored with the flags of every country represented. They were  _our_ flags.

Phichit had already posted a selfie of himself with the red, white and navy blue horizontal stripes of Thailand to Instagram. Chris had answered it with a selfie from the hotel swimming pool side in  _nothing but_  the white-within-red cross of Switzerland. Michele had stopped to smile for once to take a photo with Emil, the two swapping the flags of Italy and the Czech Republic; Leo and Guang Hong had done the same with the Star-Spangled Banner and the Five-star Red. Mila, Georgi and Yurio had taken photos together too in their team jackets under a single Russian flag; Yakov took the photos himself, proudly.

And when my Yuri came off the ice, having performed  _Yuri On Ice_ to perfection again, I wrapped him up in the rising red sun of Japan and hugged him forever, until I had run out of ways to tell him how proud of him I was into his ear. I didn't kiss him then; I didn't want to embarrass him even more, remembering how awkward he had been when I kissed him that first time, months ago at the Cup of China. But he hugged me back just as tightly, until he finally pulled back enough to smile at me through tears.

"I did great," he said quietly. No question this time. I nodded, and pulled him back in.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I looked down to see Phichit. He was smiling, his phone out.

"Can I take a photo?" He asked in a deferential whisper. I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it. "Not for social media! So I can show Yuri later. He'd want to see, you know how bad his eye sight is."

Yes, I did, and I understood. Yuri wouldn't be able to see how proud of him I was right then. I really should have said no, in deference to the anthem, but... I'm all for commemorative photos.

There's two. The first is just of me, the ghosts of tears I'd tried to wipe away staining my face as I beamed for Yuri to see after. He has it saved on his phone, and though he doesn't go looking for it, it always stops him when he comes across it, makes him smile. The other is of Chris and Phichit photobombing just after the anthem had ended, Chris mid-dig at me as I laughed, wiping my fresh tears away, my ring glinting in the flash, and Phichit pointing up at my face. _Look, Yuri!_  You won't find either on social media, as promised.

The Japanese National anthem came to a close. It's the oldest of all current national anthems, and the shortest, and... it's not without its controversies, but then... what anthem isn't? A single song to represent a nation of people of many different walks of life? Still, if you forget the history of it, I thought it fitting for my Yuri. It roughly translates as:

 _May your reign_  
_Continue for a thousand, eight thousand generations_  
_Until the pebbles_  
_Grow into boulders_  
_Lush with moss_

Let's do that, Yuri, let's do that together. Let's skate together forever, inspire thousands long after our feet and ankles and knees and legs give up on us and we can barely walk, let alone skate. Let's turn into fat, hairy old men together; boulders lush with moss.

My love came down from the podium and blushed with embarrassment as he shook Otabek's hand, bowing respectfully over the handshake, and I smiled proudly at the sight, knowing he was congratulating the Kazakhstani for his incredible skating. Then he turned to Yurio, ignored the boy's proffered hand and hugged him. I saw Yurio's eyes widen, dropping his bouquet, and then he hugged Yuri back awkwardly, his cheeks reddening, and I saw my Yuri laugh as Yurio undoubtedly said something only Yurio would say. Then my Yuri looked up, squinting, trying to find me. I waved, and saw his face light up.

I made my way to the opening in the barrier - Chris and Phichit called out soppy cries of encouragement like this was a 90s romcom or something - and I smiled as I watched Yuri take off his medal as he skated over. In his skates he was slightly taller than me, I noted, not for the first time. It seemed fitting that in his victory, I didn't get to look down at him. It was perfect.

We came to the barrier at the same time. So emotional, the pair of us; our faces were pink messes. Wordlessly Yuri held out his gold medal by its ribbon with both hands, just as he did his silver at the Grand Prix Final, but this time without apology. I looked down at it. Then up at him, and his blotchy face.

And seized it and both pulled him in and pushed forward toward him for a bruising kiss. In my hands, Yuri jumped slightly for a split second, not expecting it, and then he melted and kissed me back, wrapping his arms round my torso.

I've kissed a lot of Gold medals in my life. It has felt fantastic each and every time, but... they're cold, dull, and the feeling never lasts. When I kissed Yuri, pushing up on my toes a little to be even, my arms round his shoulders, and he kissed me with nothing held back... _nothing_ compares to it.

Next season, I promised, next season, at the next Grand Prix Final, at every competition from now... you'll always be my gold medal, Katsuki Yuri.

I remembered that bitterly when I was on the ice instead of him.

* * *

* * *

_3_

Seoul

* * *

* * *

Victor was still angry. He was trying not to be, but I think the alternative was to feel tired, so I didn't tell him to calm down. I didn't trust myself to not make it sound patronising.

I glanced quickly at the kiss and cry. Yurio was stony-faced next to Yakov and Lilia, awaiting his scores. I sympathised; the failed quad axel had just cost him dearly. Baka. He should never had tried a stunt like that, for his own sake let alone anyone else's. Yakov was furious, but was choosing to say nothing for now; Victor had already shouted enough at the boy. I suspect if Yurio had been trying to defend himself Yakov would have been far from silent. Yurio knew he had messed up; they just didn't know how badly yet.

A cheer rose from the crowd and Yurio sank into his seat, visibly relieved. He had  _just_ managed to slide into first place on the scoreboard, but... there was one last skater left.

I turned back to my Victor, squeezed his hands on the barrier. He hadn't reacted much, though he too had been watching the scores come in. It had been a long evening, watching everyone shuffle about on the board. Phichit, in his last ever performance before taking an indefinite break to begin _The King and the Skater On Ice_ , was guaranteed a spot of the podium, having given his all for a higher Free Program score but starting with a lesser Short Program. I couldn't have been prouder of my best friend, or so I thought at the time; on opening night I thought the same again. His total had yet to push JJ off the podium, officially in third place, but I could just about spot him with his head in his hands in the VIP stands with his parents, knowing that there was no way that Victor was going to score less than he did. His wife, Isabella, wasn't there; if the rumours were true, I didn't blame her, but I still felt sorry for Jean-Jacques. She was meant to have been in the threads of JJ's skating... I hadn't seen her there either.

I suspect if Yurio had done worse then Victor would have... felt a little vindicated. He would have thought it served Yurio right. I... couldn't talk. That jump had already cost me dearly too.

I was just glad to be there with them all. With Phichit, at the peak of his career before he set off on an even greater venture. With Yurio, who I had missed training with in St Petersburg. With Victor...  _Victor_...

I was so proud of him. He'd performed  _History Maker_ so brilliantly, better than I could have done myself, by far, and had reclaimed his World Record. I was so happy that I got to see him do it, at the edge of the ice with his pass around my neck. Even if he did look like a _complete idiot_ with that black fringe. Honestly... it was only a inch... but it looked _ridiculous_. I was annoyed that I had had no idea that he was going to do that either. It was  _his_ hair, but... I loved his silver hair, exactly as it was. It made him so unique. What on earth was he doing, messing around with it, _baka_...

"Yuri..." Victor whispered. He threaded his fingers through mine and chuckled at himself stiffly. "I..."

My eyes widened and I smiled, utterly endeared, forgetting his hair completely. "Nervous?"

He nodded. "Daft, I know. Multi-Gold medal winning Victor Nikiforov is nervous. But..." He bit his lip, trying to manage his breathing.

I leant forward, so we were forehead-to-forehead, and he closed his eyes with a contented moan. In his skates, he was  _so_ much taller than me; I was having to stand on tiptoe to reach him, even bent over the barrier. "Want me to say something as stupid as what you told me last year?"

His eyes opened in shock, met mine, and then he laughed. "Like what?"

I let go of his right hand, so that he could see our gold ring on my left as I raised it to my chin to faux-think. "Hmm... think of katsudon?"

We both chuckled then. "Okay," he accepted, and took my hand back with a quick kiss on my ring. "Anything else?"

I leant forward again, a little more, so our noses touched. "Thank you for doing this," I whispered, just for him. "I don't know how to thank you for it... I already love you so much, so I don't know what else I can do." I flexed all of my fingers, to rub them against his as his eyes shone. Don't cry, Victor. "Any suggestions?"

He gave me a watery grin. "I can think of a few..."

I giggled innocently. "Anything that we didn't do last night?" The night before I genuinely thought I was going to get pregnant...

Victor smirked, making my pulse jump excitedly. "I was thinking more of what  _you_ could do to  _me_..."

I blushed. I was glad Phichit, who was close by with his Team Thailand jacket over his costume, was just far away enough that hopefully he didn't hear.

I sympathised though. During my season, after we started sleeping together, when we made love he didn't... umm... I had to be on top, let's put it that way. He made an exception after my  _Eros_ at the Worlds, because by then I was so wound up with desperate want I couldn't wait any longer and I was close to tears with begging. But it meant I was never sore during training, and... well, I can't say I can complain too much. I learnt how much pleasure I could visit upon him, learnt how he liked to be made love to. When Victor returned to the ice, we switched, and he admitted that before me, he'd naturally been a giver, that being a receiver for me had been a learning curve for him too. He told me... he told me I was the only one he liked - loved even - having inside of him, and that whilst he was going to miss it...  _he was going to ruin me_...

_... And he did... oh my god..._

I smirked at him. "We could go  _now_ if you want..."

Victor narrowed his eyes and then smirked right back. "Stay right there, Katsuki Yuri. I'll be right back."

And he pushed off away from me as the announcer welcomed him back to the ice.

_On the ice, representing Russia..._

_VICTOR NIKIFOROV!_

I barely noticed when Phichit sided up to me, hiding a grin (oh god, he had heard everything, hadn't he... at least he hadn't taken  _that_ many photos...). Even as he raised his arms to accept the adulation of the crowd, Victor kept his eyes on me until the last second. I held my breath... and breathed with him as the music started.

 _..._  
_You only live once_  
_..._  
_You only live once_  
_..._  
_You only live once_  
_..._  
_You only live once_

 _You're so beautiful_  
_I was entranced by you tonight_  
_Even the hourglass stops_  
_So take my breath away  
__Shining so bright_  
_Your fighting form declared_  
_We were born so that we could shine_

 _Waiting for the light_  
_I can't hear a thing_  
_There's a shining butterfly_  
_Amid the light_  
_We mustn't fear being hurt so that we can shine  
__Shining all the while_  
_That's what you taught me!_

 _...  
You only live once  
_...  
_You only live once  
_...  
_You only live once  
_...  
_You only live once_

 _You're amazing_  
_We're at a loss for words_  
_Even if your strength expires_  
_Everybody knows you're right_  
_Your form is just too beautiful_

 _When you're sad and having a hard time_  
_We believe in you  
__Oh, I'm just dreaming of the day_  
_That every day up 'til now will resound like recompense_  
_Thunderous applause!_  
_We were born so that we could shine_  
_Shining all the while_  
_That's what you taught me!_

Victor ended with a final triple axel-triple flip combination, and flew into his finishing pose... oh. He... he changed it... a mirror of me. Left, ringed hand to his chest, right arm stretched toward me, but palm up...

 _Once this was all_ because  _of me... now, this all_ for _you..._

... Victor...

He slowly dropped his arm, bending, exhausted, that stupid black fringe stuck to his forehead, and finally he thrust his arms into the air, crying out with elation... but he still barely took his eyes off me.  _I did it!_

I realised I was frozen, that I hadn't moved at all since he began. The first and only thing I did was stretch my arms toward him. He nodded, pointed to the kiss and cry and I ran to the entrance. Victor came to me, bending to scream victoriously, and -

I leapt into his arms, hooked all my limbs around him, hugging him tightly. He stumbled, but remained upright on the ice, holding on to me tightly. "YURI! WE DID IT! WE -"

I silenced him with a kiss. I think the audience cheered louder - so Phichit tells me anyway - but all I could hear was Victor's happy moan and the smooch of our lips together, and at the very edge Phichit's cheers back on solid ground.

_Arigatōgozaimashita, Victor._

* * *

* * *

_4_

Milan

* * *

* * *

_Can you hear_  
_My heartbeat?_  
_Tired of feeling_  
_Never enough, I_  
_Close my eyes and_  
_Tell myself that my dreams will come true_

 _There'll be no more darkness when you believe in_  
_Yourself, you are unstoppable_  
_Where your destiny lies_  
_Dancing on the blades, you set my heart on fire_

 _Don't stop us now_  
_The moment of truth_  
_We were born to make history_  
_We'll make it happen_  
_We'll turn it around_  
_Yes, we were born to make history_

_Born to make history_

_Born-born-born to make history_

_Don't stop us now_  
_The moment of truth_  
_We were born to make history_  
_We'll make it happen_  
_We'll turn it around_  
_Yes, we were born to make history_

 _Can you hear_  
_My heartbeat?_  
_I've got a feeling  
_ _It's never too late, I_  
_Close my eyes and_  
_See myself, how my dreams will come true_

 _There'll be no more darkness when you believe in_  
_Yourself, you are unstoppable_  
_Where your destiny lies_  
_Dancing on the blades, you set my heart on fire_

 _Don't stop us now_  
_The moment of truth_  
_We were born to make history_  
_We'll make it happen_  
_We'll turn it around_  
_Yes, we were born to make history_

_Born to make history_

_Born-born-born to make history_

_Don't stop us now_  
_The moment of truth_  
_We were born to make history_  
_We'll make it happen_  
_We'll turn it around_  
_Yes, we were born to make history_

 _Don't stop us now_  
_The moment of truth_  
_We were born to make history_  
_We'll make it happen_  
_We'll turn it around_  
_Yes, we were born to make history_

 _We were born to make history  
We were born to make history  
_ _Yes, we were born to make history_

Victor's career as the greatest competitive figure skater in history, at the grand old age of thirty, ended on one knee. We were  _both_ on our knees, reaching for the other, as the music ended, too emotional to laugh at each other; we had both had the same idea (the plan was to be upright).

I've never heard an audience cheer so loudly as they did in the Mediolanum Forum for the Milan World Championships Exhibition. We had a standing ovation, and I got up and skated to Victor, who was...

I bent to wrap my arms round him. He was sobbing, and trying to hide it behind his hands from everyone. His head fell into my shoulder and he gripped on to me, without words. I had no words either, just rubbed his back gently, until he could get to his feet. He wobbled on his skates, raised an arm to the crowd, and I held his hand tightly, my eyes only on him. His chest was still heaving from crying, and he met my eyes and smiled, even as tears kept coming. Then he frowned, and raised my hand into the air too, to share the applause. I smiled, still didn't take my eyes off of him, even as the cheering renewed even louder.

He reached for me again, hugged me one armed, the other arm still raised weakly, dutifully. I nuzzled at him, until he pulled back and I kissed him, soft and sweet, my fingers in his hair, and I smiled after.

 _I know, Victor. I know. But you're not losing_ me _. We now have all the time in the world together._

Victor finally made his last bow, holding on to my hand tightly as I mirrored him, and then he turned to me with a genuine smile, tugged my hand. Just over the sound of his last applause, I heard him.

"Kaerou, moya lyubov'."

* * *

* * *

  _5_

Vancouver

* * *

* * *

"Do you miss it?"

Yuri nudged my side with his at the barrier, glancing at me quickly before returning to his diligence. Across the rink, Yurio began an arabesque spiral, frowning as he fought to keep his leg up behind him, and then abandoned the manoeuvre, not quite warmed up to maintain the hold so high at 180 degrees. Both Yuri and I nodded in approval; don't pull anything now.

I thought of the honest answer to Yuri's question. I knew what he was asking... did I wish I was on the ice right now too. like old times?

"Not as much as I expected..."

Yuri's eyes snapped to mine quickly in surprise, and then back away as Yurio switched to his footwork, keeping the movements fluid from his hips. Unable to look at me as he wanted, Yuri reached and took my hand, threaded his fingers through mine like it was the most natural thing. I smiled, squeezed his fingers in return, and also kept my eyes on our charge.

"How much did you expect?"

I chuckled. "A lot..." I glanced at his profile, saw him trying not to frown. "I've been competing for over half my life, moya lyubov'. Until recently, skating was all I had." I rubbed my thumb over his skin.  _Until I met you_.

Yuri smiled out of the corner of my eye and moved closer, linking our arms. "And now?"

I thought again. Now... now, I still had you, you who have always been greater than anything else in my life. And besides... even though neither of us were competing anymore we were still there, at the Grand Prix Final, together. That felt... right. And watching Yurio together, skating Yuri's choreography, that felt right too.

Even though I was a bit bemused because I could tell the boy was hungover.

"Yuri?"

"Hmm?"

I turned and pressed a kiss into his head quickly, before tilting mine to rest where my lips had just been. "After I see the doctor about my knees, I... I want to start choreographing again." I smiled as I felt Yuri light up. "I've already got a few ideas floating about in my head that I want to get down before... well, before whatever the doctor recommends I guess, then I can work towards getting it right after."

Yuri shuffled his head under mine so he could look up at me quickly. "I love that idea! I can't wait to see! Choreography for who?"

I kept my eyes on Yurio, and squeezed Yuri's hand again. "I don't know... I guess I'll have to see."

Yuri fell silent. Then... "Victor... I..."

I pulled my arm out from his hold and wrapped it round his shoulders. "Yuri... I rather suspect that one way or another we'll be here next year too. And the year after that.  _Many_ years after that. But one way or another we'll  _both_ be here,  _together_. Okay?"

I became aware that Yuri wasn't watching Yurio anymore at all, that his eyes were exclusively on me. I looked down, and smiled at the sight of him. My wonderful Katsudon.

For a moment, I really did miss the ice. But only because I wanted to skate with Yuri. I wanted to skate with Yuri forever.

"Okay."

He leant up as I leant down, and we both smiled into our kiss. My lips tugged at his, keeping hold of him, not wanting this moment to end, not yet, and he moved closer to me, the hand that I had been holding twisted up to my cheek as mine over his shoulders found his hair.

Yuri...  _Yuri, Yuri, Yuri -_ AH!

Something hit the back of my head, and my forehead slammed into Yuri's, making us both cry out. I looked up, glaring, and spotted Yurio just up ahead, skating away, glaring right back at me. Yuri turned red as he realised  _everyone_ was looking at us, and then redder still when he realised his student had been the one who whacked my head as he passed, punishment for not watching.

Not remotely guilty for spoiling our moment, Yurio stuck his tongue out and wriggled it disgustingly. Then he just... he just smirked, and rolled his eyes, and went back to practicing.

Yuri and I burst out laughing, giggled all the more as Otabek sailed past too, perpetually frowning but with a thumbs up, whatever he meant by that. In the corner, Minami was geeking out, and Guang Hong was laughing at him. And Emil wolf-whistled as he passed with a wink.

Yuri, still chuckling, pulled at my jumper and whispered in my ear. "Stop distracting me, Victor, we're meant to be working."

I grinned and scolded him right back. "Then stop being so distracting yourself."

As he withdrew Yuri placed a quick peck on my cheek and then turned back to the ice, contentedly returning to his last spot, leaning against me, and my hand stayed at his neck, my thumb rubbing random circles on its own accord.

It took less than an hour to start trending. No matter the angle, I'm not going to lie... it's pretty funny when Yurio circles round and just reaches out to slap the back of my head. I didn't realise at the time that our friends were in the stands, watching, laughing and _cheering_. And  _filming_.

I'm certain there'll be more kisses that the world will see and that they'll be dying to know about. I hope so, anyway; I don't want to spend my whole life looking over my shoulder whenever I want to show Yuri that I love him. I hope that as time goes by, the world in general will have less of a problem about two men kissing each other, in public or otherwise, because for every swooning fan there's still its opposite.

But I'll be honest; for now... I don't really give a damn about either. I care about _him_ , about my Yuri, about kissing him every day anyway, on our terms, so we both feel loved even when we're apart.

Yes, and you, Sobachin! Come here, silly dog, you and your kisses too. Come on, let's go pick up Yuri from the station. Yes, Yuri! No, Soba-chan, he's not here, we have to go meet him. That's right, you're getting a free walk, you'll need your lead, clever girl. Hang on, I need my shoes - no, don't pick them up! You'll slobber all over my trainers, atta girl. Oh, look at that cute face, you're  _almost_ cuter than Yuri! Mwah! Come on, let's go get Yuri and give him more kisses too!

* * *

* * *

To be continued...


	24. Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for... well, there's a considerable amount of profanity coming up. I told myself that I was going to get this up at the next milestone of stats... 5,500 hits guys. :-D
> 
> Also, the format isn't quite how I want it because... well, my laptop has finally given up the ghost, so had to restart it with an old OS, so... yeah. Really glad I did a lot of the images as I was going along, before it went kaput.
> 
> I'm feeling affectionate for it though, my own Makkachin of a kind. This MacBook Air - yep, like Yuri has - has been with me through four different houses, South East Asia and the Pacific, and has helped me write since 2011. I was sure it would give up on me far sooner, so we've had a really good run together. Proud of it, even though it has been an old dog in the last year.
> 
> Not going to lie though, I'm amazed physical bits of it didn't rot off. So I can type normally again now. But hence why there are no pics after a bit. When I get a new computer, I'll go back and fix those, but subsequently this will be the last update for a little while. I'll kept drafting, so once I'm up and running I can get cracking again. I was sitting on a cache of about fifty different references which I now can't access so easily anymore, so... that kind of sucks, got to build those back up again.
> 
> I also really need to study so I can become a teacher. My laptop that can barely last a minute without buffering's no longer an excuse to procrastinate. Hmmm...
> 
> So, hopefully be back soon. To my commenters, you'll hear from me in advance when I'm back, I promise :-) x
> 
> P.S.: the 'Yuuri' is deliberate. You don't think Yurio would grace anyone with his own name, do you? ;-)
> 
> P.P.S: 24/05/18... back up and running now... next chapter nearly finished, shouldn't be too long!

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 18

_Youth_

* * *

* * *

A while back I... umm... I asked Yurio if he wanted to contribute to my memoir. To get an outside opinion, so to speak.

 _"The hell you writing a memoir for? You're not that fucking interesting, Old Man!"_ Then he just sulked, because... well, of course I am that interesting. Yurio on the other hand...

That's mean, gomen. Yurio is one of the most interesting individuals I've ever come across, and you can take that to be a good thing or a bad thing really. But he's only eighteen; he needs to live a bit more before filling a book with his life. Without going to court for libel.

Eventually however, this is what he sent me.

It was all in Cyrillic, with a note in English saying he couldn't be arsed to do his own translation, so... this is about the best I could do. There was a version with less swearing, but it didn't sound like Yurio at all. So apologies on his behalf, not that he'll offer one himself anyway.

Enjoy... hehehe...

* * *

* * *

My name is Yuri Plisetski.

Really don't know how you're expecting me to start this dumbass activity, Old Man. Live with it.

Fuck. Don't actually know where to start. Where's the fucking beginning anyway? The toilets? Oooooh... actually I know...

Hey Victor. How does it feel knowing that I knew about your husband  _first_?

I watched his qualifiers. 'Course I fucking did. You, you lazy piece of shit, had gotten so complacent you barely watched anything anymore, did you? Or maybe... ha... maybe  _you did_ watch Katsudon's performances before the Sochi Final. Did you remember him at all, Old Man? You certainly didn't behave like you knew who he was before Sochi. _I did_. I wanted to see him wipe the floor with you.

You fucking pissed me off, Katsu-sensei. You won the fucking NHK that year. You got a fucking Gold, and a Bronze at Skate America. You qualified  _third_ , after Victor and Christophe, because Shithead just got Silvers. (Ha.) You went from fucking  _G_ _old_ to... whatever the fuck that mess was. I know you were depressed because your dog died, but  _fuck's sake, Katsu_. People were talking about how you could give Victor a run for his money, Celestino was going on about how hard you had worked to _emerge_ like that, and then...

Don't blame you for getting shit-faced at the banquet. So would I, if Yakov had let me drink anything that wasn't water. Although I'd really rather you hadn't drank so much, because... that was just  _weird_.

You do know that was  _all_ you, right?  _You're_ the one that just fucking grabbed my jacket and spat down into my face "Dance-off! Now!" (You're oddly tall sometimes. I thought Japanese guys weren't tall...). FUCKING HUMILIATING. And fucking Victor was  _loving it_. Like...

That was weird actually, now I think about it. That was the first time I saw you like that, Old Man. I mean, I'd been training with you and Yakov for a few years by then, and you've always been a goof, but... I'd never heard you laugh like that. I kept thinking that, never heard Victor laugh, at all maybe even. And you were laughing at  _him_ , at this sloppy idiot who'd just been practically making out with Chris on the pole - SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT THING DOING THERE??? - okay, he wasn't making out with Chris, don't get your panties in a twist, I mean you were there taking pictures for Christ's sake, but...

It was weird. I mean, I thought you were straight, until... until you started dancing with Katsudon.  _He_ was leading  _you_.

If Katsudon hadn't passed out in your arms and started snoring like a pig, after asking you to be his coach, I did wonder... what would you have done?

I remember how gutted you were when he walked away from you. I... well, I just thought Katsudon was a dick for turning his back to you, that was cold, but I thought you were an idiot for caring, for  _visibly_ caring. Even Chris couldn't get you to smile properly when he moaned about flying back to Zurich. It was weird, finally knowing what you looked like when you did smile properly, knowing that  _there was_ a difference.

I learnt something that day, you know. The movies and shit say that love hurts but... I only got that when I saw that, just the back of you - you couldn't even look at us, at Yakov and I - and... hey, I'm sorry for teasing you that time. When Katsudon flunked the Japanese Nationals and I shoved the Youtube clips under your nose at practice. I... that was a dick move. You... you scared me though. You almost looked mad for a second, before you plastered that fake grin on your face and told me 'who knows, maybe he'll be your competition next year'. You were going to defend him, weren't you? Chris said that once, that you've got a thing about protecting him. Stupid idiot, even that early, even though he'd dropped you in Sochi.

Which makes you a Grade A fucking MORON when you flew 7,000 miles to flirt  _relentlessly_ \- it was so gross, and it was almost  _funny_ that Katsudon just wasn't getting the picture  _at all_ , except it was still so gross - with a... well,  _seriously_ , Katsudon, the fuck were you  _eating_ in Detroit?! How you got through  _Stammi Vicino_ I really don't know.

 _And if you fucking reply with some stupid comment about_ stamina _, I will... grrrrrr._  Ugh I can just picture you now, _don't you fucking_ dare _make moony eyes at him, I know what you're thinking. EW_.

Anyway, you're both morons. Don't bitch about it, I've told you both that to your faces enough times, I can write it as well.

What else...?

* * *

* * *

_Onsen On Ice_ was a fucking dick move, Victor.

You could have fucking said. That you weren't coming back. You do know that you never actually said that, right? You should have told me - hell, you should have told your stupid _boyfriend_ \- that you had no intention of coming back to St Petersburg, that you weren't going to keep your promise to me.  _I don't give a shit for your shitass memory of it, you promised_. You fucking used me to light a fire under Katsudon. I don't give a  _fuck_ about the fact that it worked - although jokes on you, how long did it take you to finally pop his cherry? Asshole.

Whatever. See, this is why I didn't want to write this stupid thing, I'm pissed now. Fucking waste of time.

... It wasn't all bad, I guess. I mean... Yuuko-chan was... she's alright. And Katsudon's mom is a really good cook. And her hair does this weird bouncy thing, it's kinda funny. Minako was always about, she was pretty hilarious when she got pissed in front of the TV. And the hot springs were sweet, apart from the whole not-wearing-trunks-thing.  _I never want to see your junk ever again, either of you_. Particularly as - oh god, don't go there, fucking hell...

(Katsu was alright, in the end. He's... you know. He could have kicked me out and all, and he could have been a twat about how I was busting his little... whatever with you. I mean, seriously, it was so _obvious_. If he wasn't staring at you, he was  _blushing_ about the fact that he'd been staring at you.  _All the time_. He didn't even bloody realise that you noticed and you were lapping it up. Morons.)

Respect for him though, when he asked me to teach him the Salchow. I mean... I know I'm... whatever, but... still. When he asked me, with his hands up like that... I was... I mean, he was twenty-three. I was  _fifteen_. What kind of twenty-three year old skater had the balls to ask a teenager for help? He wanted to get better at skating that badly. I...

At Sochi, before he ballsed that right up, I... I wanted to ask him how to get my step sequences better. You were no fucking help, and Katsu was... his were the best I'd ever seen. He had the whole audience  _rapt_ just for his steps; most people just want to watch the jumps, the obvious stuff. Anyway...

It stung, Victor. I mean, I know I cocked up my performance at the exhibition, but at least I didn't fuck up my jumps,  _again_. It was shit, knowing I'd still lost, even though... it was _agony_ , trying to get through that first full performance of  _Agape_ , and knowing that I'd messed it up. Meanwhile he was fucking skating about  _food_...

No, wait... he _had_ been, hadn't he, fucking egg and shit, but... Sensei, what were you skating about then? It felt... different, really different from practice. Not quite... I mean, it wasn't your Cup of China or Rostelecom performance, even on the TV that was so much better, but... hmm. Whatever.

It was fucking humiliating, going back to Yakov. The Old Geezer was... he wasn't a total dick about it, but he was still smug for about five seconds and then he just got on with shit, got Lilia into the mix. I... hmm. I told her that I'd sell my body and soul to her to win, or some shit. I remember that, I remember thinking she was a waste of my time, and then... then realising that she was how I was going to beat you.  _Both of you_. If Katsudon was going to have Victor Nikiforov, then I needed everything I could get to _pulverise_ you. Although... I was kind of gutted that it was all... it was all her choreography. Well, hers and Yakov's. I didn't get to produce my own, like Yuuko said Katsu was doing with his free skate. I mean, I won, but... anyway.

I didn't win. Not really.

It was really weird living with them. Yakov and Lilia, I mean. Like,  _really weird_. The whole... were they married? Just dating? When the fuck was that?! Can you imagine  _Yakov_ dating  _anyone_? They barely spoke to each other when they were home, except about skating,  _my_ skating, like I wasn't in the room (fucking rude). I'm not even joking, I don't think I heard either of them talk even about the milk running low or something.  _Nothing_. Creepy.

And Baba was a hag, as always. (I was... I was glad to see her again. I ranted to her about how fucking useless you were. She laughed at me, hag, but... she listened. Then she called me an idiot and laughed at me some more, stupid...  _ugh._ )

It was crap. Not... It was crap, not having you guys around. Yuuko-chan texted me updates, that was... that was kind of nice. But... it was a long summer. It was weird. The summers used to go fast, because of training, and it did, but... I dunno. I...

You could have kept in touch, you know. Katsudon did, sort of, he liked some of my pics on Instagram and commented a couple of times, replied a bit until we ran out of shit to say. Not like the you, Old Man, you never reply, asshole. I mean, it's not like I messaged you, either of you, but... whatever. You should have messaged or something, just to... I dunno.  _Something_. Whatever. I thought you were just too busy bonking, though apparently not.

Haha. I thought you had better game that that, Victor. Hahahahaha...

* * *

* * *

Skate Canada came around fast. UGH. I...

I wished you were there. Katsu, at least. I could have done with a... a friend, I guess. Just to put up with King Shithead with. Otabek thinks he's 'alright'. Seriously man, just because you trained together in Canada for a bit... UGH.

It was crap, losing to Shithead. I know, I got _S_ _ilver_ , that's not losing, but... I hate that fucker. I hated him the minute he turned to me with that stupid-as, patronising comment, like the sun was fucking shining so bright it was propelling his ass up like a fucking rocket, and he has yet to do anything remotely redeeming. Fucking smug piece of shit. And don't fucking lecture me again, Sensei, I know that Victor doesn't like him either. I was so glad to get back to St Petersburg.

Oi, Katsu. Thanks for watching, and messaging me to say you had. That... that was cool of you.

Then it was Moscow. I got to see Grandpa. For... for a bit.

Yakov told me later that Grandpa was a lot sicker than I realised. Still... it was my senior debut. I wish he'd been there to see it, live I mean. I know he watched on the TV, but... it's not the same. It... it threw me off. I... I hoped he'd be there.

And anyway, Victor. You egotistical dipshit. Don't ever drag me in front of a camera again just to deflect from questions you don't want to answer. And what the fuck were you hiding in that elevator for, Katsudon? Loser. The Crispinos aren't... hang on. I was about to say they're not that bad, yes they are. You know that Mila and I have a bet on with Georgi that Michele will end up marrying some bint who looks  _exactly_ like his sister. UGH.  _Incestuous._ They're both stupid, that crap she was pulling with Emil. Seung-Gil's more into his bloody husky than anything human. UGH.

Anyway, where was I... oh, Moscow.

Oh. Moscow... Oh, the other one, the first one, not... right.

Hang on...  _that_ Moscow. Where you two morons  _ruined_ my Short Program.  _Could you have been MORE embarrassing?_ Fucking kissing his skate... like you weren't kissing his gross feet all the time anyway. I bet you're a perve and you've got a thing for that, Old Man. Stinky, cheesy, purple, skate-mangled feet. Nice. I'm so glad they were filming you, so I got to laugh my ass off when you hit him in the mother-fucking face.

Fuck's sake though, was so pissed it took  _ages_ to find that funny. Shithead won again. I don't want to talk about that. I was fucking  _exhausted_ at the end of my Free Program, and stupid Katsudon looked like he wanted to puke before he even began.

Really though... Sensei. The hell was... the hell was that? I mean... I get it, you missed Victor, but... but... I don't get it. You had to qualify. You  _had_ to qualify, you  _had_ to get to the Final, otherwise what was the fucking point? _Of any of it_. And the whole time you just looked like all you wanted to do was just get to the airport already.

... Idiot. Idiot _s_ , both of you. Over a _dog_... and then you were a fucking  _freak_ after, hugging everyone. What the fuck, man?! I though you didn't like touching people?! Or is people touching you... whatever. It was the Sex Effect, wasn't it, now that you were getting laid, finally, what, it didn't matter anymore? Weirdo. And then you were mopping in the cold in that hideous coat and mask of yours - you'd lost weight, the coat looked ridiculous on you, way too big - and you didn't even stick around to see me get my stinking medal. Fucking JJ...

Grandpa liked you, Katsu. If that, you know, means anything to you.

That was... that was kind of fun. I'd... I hadn't had sleepovers since I was... about eight? Yeah, eight. That was ages ago, shit. Before I stepped up my training because I wanted... wanted...

I wanted to be as good as Victor Nikiforov. Stupid... Katsudon was probably having his first wet dream about you around then. Ugh.

Oh eww... I wish I hadn't though of that now... fucking hell...

Umm... hey, Katsu, thanks for keeping in touch after. Properly, I mean, with the messages about training and how long it was going to take to get to Barcelona and stuff. I told Grandpa. He was impressed with that; he said 'good'. It sucks we didn't get to hang out in Barcelona properly, other than that ridiculous dinner that you made us all go to with Boss Sis and Minako. But it sounds like you were doing your own shit with Victor, and... I got to know Otabek, so... yeah.

He's been teaching me how to ride his motorbike. He says hi, by the way. Almaty's alright, just here for a few days. I keep wanting to tell him to come train in St Petersburg with Mila and I, but... well, Mila tells me to mind my own business. Hag.

I'm thinking of asking him to write a piece for me. I dunno, I'm not sure. What do you think, Sensei?

... Victor. About the beach that morning...

I'm sorry. I was a dick. I shouldn't have said what I said about the rings.

I was right though, about you being dead. You were completely different. Just... comfortable. Old Victor would never have talked about getting married to a man, teasing or otherwise. Old Victor never arranged dinners with other skaters. I mean, I get it, it was for Boss Sis, your sister-in-law, and Minako, who's pretty much your aunt-in-law, but... you were showing Otabek stuff on your phone - even  _Otabek_ found it weird, having  _Victor Nikiforov_ talking to him - and... I dunno.

I remember when we walked back to the hotel, you had your arm round Katsu's shoulders, and he had his round your waist. Like... like a couple, not like the flirting you were doing back in Hasetsu. Like... like it was real.

That pissed me right off. You gave up skating just for...  _that_. You gave up being Victor Nikiforov, a history making champion, just to have a boyfriend, a  _fiancé_ as you were joking in the restaurant. I mean, you were  _joking_ then, right? You guys didn't get married for _ages_ , didn't you _re-propose_? I ranted to Mila again that night, and even she thought that that was quick.

You picked him over me. Katsuki Yuuri wasn't the only one who wanted to be picked by Victor Nikiforov to be trained to greatness. You picked him over me. I know, okay, I know that it's not like that for you, but for me it was. It felt like I wasn't good enough, and I couldn't even compete, because it wasn't just about skating. It was about... cuddles and kisses and gooey crap like that. But... that shit hurt.

I did want to compete against you. Once. But... by then...

He was better than you. He  _is_ better than you. I hated competing against you, those two years, even though I knew you were skating for him, even though you were skating his stuff. I hated when you won, with  _History Maker_ and  _You Only Live Once_. It should have been him.

It should have been Yuuri.

* * *

* * *

I don't remember what I did after my Short Program. I... what the fuck did I end up doing?

No, wait... everyone was going out, celebrating. Mari and Minako invited me to join them at the bar with Celestino (so glad I didn't go, not that I could anyway). Mila banged on the door, asked if I wanted to join her for dinner. I said no. Why did I say no...?

Was it like this for you too, Victor? When you won, I mean? After... after my World Record, I... I didn't know what to say to anyone. I wasn't angry, I didn't want to snap at people, but... I didn't want to rub it anyone's face. I'm not  _that_ much of an asshole. Particularly after Shithead flopped  _so_ badly. That was painful, watching. Hadn't expected that. I couldn't even be smug about it, even though he was  _still_ a piece of shit in the kiss and cry. Fuck's sake. Fucking 'JJ Style' bullshit.

Oh, I remember now. Otabek called, on the hotel phone. I told him what I heard Victor say about his skating, that he thought it was exotic (it is, it's cool). He told me I was a soldier again, that I should be proud. But we didn't talk long - Otabek's not a talker - but... after that I really wanted to talk to Grandpa. I forgot about the time zones, woke him up when I rang. Sorry, Grandpa. But he'd watched it on his TV. He saw my World Record, live. I stayed up really late, talking to him. I remember that now. I'm... I'm glad.

... He saw it. I am glad.

The... the fuck was up with the two of you though, going into that Free Skate?  _Everyone_ kept saying you'd had a fight... how the fuck did you go from  _proposing_ with those stupid good-luck charm pair rings, whatever they were, to being unable to look at each other? How did you go from  _that_ to... to...

 _Yuri On Ice_ is the best skating I've ever seen in my life, and probably ever will. I watched. Not in the corridor on the screens. Yakov couldn't take his eyes away either; he was speechless.

I was fucking  _furious_ at the thought that that was it. Victor came along with that nonsense about jumping back into competing again -  _of course_ you didn't, the Nationals were only a couple of weeks away, I _refuse_ to believe that you spent any time at all in Hasetsu preparing for that. You would have spent your every minute prepping Katsu for the Grand Prix Final, for _his_ Nationals after. You weren't  _that_ shit a coach. Well, actually... maybe you were, when you hugged me and whispered into my ear. I know why you wanted me to beat him, I didn't want him to retire either but... that was a crap move.

I was terrified, after I messed up that last quad, that I hadn't done enough to stop him. It fucking stung, when it was all for nothing in the end.

I'm not an idiot. I know how much you wanted him to win Gold, what it meant when you asked me to make sure that he didn't. There's... there's nothing like it. I get it, I get that you wanted him to keep going, to know what that felt like, to know that everyone else thought he was... well, that he was the best.

... It's true. That's the bar now, _Yuri On Ice_ is the bar. That's what we all aspire to being as good as, as being better than. No skater worth their blades thinks of being better than Victor Nikiforov anymore. Well, maybe they do, but even so... It took _one season_ for all of us to lift our heads up and go... _damn_. That's it. That's what we all want to be like. No one does steps and spins like that, no one can master all the jumps like that, even though Katsu's shit at his consistency even now when he's not concentrating properly. None of us know how to balance our TES with our PCS like that, not even you Victor, you could never pull off half the things Sensei could in the second half of his programs, not even when you were younger.

You know that Minami calls Sensei's spread-eagle into the triple axel 'the Katsuki' now, that 3.0 GOE one? He's not the only one.

He just kept getting back up, until he stopped falling down all the shitting time. Even when you both moved to St Petersburg to train with me, he was like that.  _All the time_ , not just during practice, or during the FCCs or anything. I'm not a fucking idiot, I know it was really weird for Katsu, living in Russia with you, trying to learn a new language, trying to get ready so he could win, trying to still be a boyfriend. He used to talk to me sometimes, about how he wanted to finish early some days so he could spoil you even more rotten than you already are. Vomit. He kept going... I...

I kept thinking he'd leave, go back to Hasetsu. Leave all of us. Although not... I don't think I ever thought he'd leave Victor though... even then I think... I think I assumed that if he asked to leave, you'd go with him. When did I stop thinking of you both as separate? Weird. But anyway, he didn't, kept at his training, kept forcing himself to speak Russian rather than fallback to English all the time.

It's why I don't get it. You kept getting back up, Sensei. Why didn't you after... after you broke your leg? Skaters get injured, that happens, we mend, take a break and focus hard on being ready for the next competition again. But... it wasn't even like you weren't skating anymore, you told me about choreographing for Phichit and training Minami for the Japanese Nationals so that he could compete against me one day. I've seen you skate now. You have never skated like someone who's retired.

Just keep getting back up again. It wasn't the same, competing against Victor. Competing at the Worlds that year, when you beat me... I've never had so much fun during a competition. _Your skating was better than mine, you deserved to beat me_.

After Victor retired, and you didn't announce a comeback in his stead, I... I was thinking of asking you to coach me anyway. Then...

Then...

* * *

* * *

I don't remember much. I'm told that's normal. I don't really give a fuck what's normal. But... I don't... I don't want to talk about Grandpa. Not...

I don't want to talk about that.

Time was all a bit fucked then. Like... how did you guys get to St Petersburg so fast?  _Why_ did you come to St Petersburg so fast? I don't think you even met Grandpa, Victor.

I remember... I remember thinking it might all be a dream. Because Grandpa wouldn't leave me. And because... Yuuri wouldn't be there at all either. You guys were in Japan, it didn't make sense that you were there, in Lilia's apartment, every single day. I kind of assumed you'd already sold your flat, Victor, though I guess it's a good thing that you kept it that long. Well, not a good thing maybe, but handy anyway.

Victor... I really don't want to talk about it. You guys were there, okay... I...

... I still don't get why you were there.

I mean, I kind of understood why _you_  were there, Yakov called, right? But... I dunno. Katsu was your boyfriend I guess - fiancé, whatever - so he tagged along, but... I...

Let's be honest about this. You guys see me only at competitions really, a handful of times a year at best, since you both moved back to Hasetsu. I only went back that once, to ask Katsu to go over the choreography I tried.

Funny, now I think about it. It was shit, what I came up with. What I took back to show Lilia was completely different from what I left St Petersburg with that spring, before... before. She liked it, by the way. I know she didn't like that she liked it, but she did, I know her. She'll probably kill me for this but... Lilia Baranovskaya is a fan of Katsuki Yuuri's work.

I can't choreograph like you guys can. _I can fucking skate_ , before you think that, but... choreographing's different. I'm cool with that.

The point is that I don't know why you would bother. Either of you. I mean, I'm just some eighteen year old punk and you guys are ancient, and... you didn't owe me anything. You didn't have to be there. But you didn't leave. You were there every day, replacing the stupid food and water. I got why Otabek was there, although even he... I...

You guys really are... you all really are my... my friends... aren't you?

... Huh...

I did want to talk to you all. I... I was glad you were all there, I just... I just didn't have the energy to. I hate remembering that, feeling like that.

I do remember. I just don't... it sounds so obvious, I just don't like remembering the funeral. Yakov did alright; Grandpa didn't give a damn for too much ceremony. Thanks to everyone for the flowers. I was impressed that Christophe came, even though he barely spoke to me other than...

Well, to say what everyone else was saying. I didn't want to hear any of it. I didn't want to be there. I also didn't know how to leave. I... I only moved in the end because... Mila said something to me.

"He wouldn't have wanted you to stay, Yura. It's cold."

I kind of knew something was really wrong when she said that. It should have hurt more, hearing that, because she was right. But... it didn't. I didn't feel anything.

Then...

I don't remember how the cup fell. I think I just moved my hand, I wasn't going to drink it or anything. Then it just fell before I could catch it - I remember just watching it fall and not moving to stop it - and then it cracked on the carpet. Then I thought of Lilia and her tea cups and how pretty they all were and I scrambled out of bed to bend down and try and...

And fix it. But it was broke. It couldn't be fixed.

I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop, I couldn't keep quiet, I - and then Yuuri was there, sweeping right through, and he took one look at the mess on the floor - he didn't even stop, he just took it in as he came toward me - and... told me it was okay, but breathe. Cry, but breathe, he said.

So I did. Fucking hurt, but... 

It... it kind of felt better. It was _agony_ , but... good agony. Like... like when you're really drunk and you have to puke, and you kind of feel better for puking rather than just being nauseous. I guess it was kind of like that.

(I guess. I mean, I had you two as role models for drunkenness. Like hell I'm ever going to be as embarrassing as you two get when you've had too many beers just sat in the dining room at the onsen, fucking laughing about whose turn it is to give each other piggyback rides across the bridge home. Losers.)

Look... I know I give you guys a lot of crap but... you guys were... you guys were great. Really. I don't know what I would have done if Sensei hadn't asked if I wanted to come to Hasetsu with you both - I had to get away. I remember waking up that morning and feeling like I was suffocating, needing to be cool, so I went and laid in the cold bathtub. I remember Yuuri climbing in to talk to me. I was so glad that I wasn't the only one who thought that, I had to, I couldn't... I couldn't stay there where I felt so shit. I remember you nodding, Victor, and vanishing, like you were going to get it done - and... you know. Everything else.

I miss it. I miss your mom, mom-in-law. I miss Boss Sis, I even miss wiping down tables and carrying around towels for her. I can't believe she tricked me into thinking that Onee-chan meant Boss Sis, but... I kind of like calling her that anyway, I just called her that when it was just the two of us. I miss the noise, the smell of the onsen. I miss your dad, and his jokes, and how everyone had to translate and then they didn't make sense, though I guess they were really bad anyway to begin with. I miss Sobachin, and taking her out for walks.

Although I don't miss that time when I brought her back and you guys were still at it so loud you didn't even hear us come in... UGH. It really wasn't like I took her out round the block to go poop, I did a whole run on the beach and calisthenics regime, I was gone for a few _hours_. You said you had  _work_ to do, not each other to do, fuck's sake. Gross. Like it wasn't bad enough having to put my headphones on when you were still at YuTopia. You didn't honestly think you were quiet, did you? Please.

Hilarious really. You know that everyone's jealous of you guys, right? You guys have been together forever and you still can't keep cool about each other, and everyone else can't fucking get their acts together. Like, not really hilarious, obviously, but... you two are the biggest idiots of them all.

Eh, maybe not, I guess. Everyone else, Mila, Sala, Emil, JJ even... they all act like they think they've got their shit together, but... nah. You two at least don't pretend that you're hopelessly needy, both of you. Mila joked that when you finally publish your memoir you should call it 'How To Find Love On The Ice'. I might have spat in her face, I laughed so hard. Like you two found it so easily.

Anyway.

I miss everyone, and I'm... I am really grateful that they all let me stay there so long. Truly, I am. But... I'm kind of glad to be back in St Petersburg now. It's home, you know? I'm Russian, I belong here. Nothing... nothing compares with that. After Grandpa... after he died, I... I didn't feel like I was anything, like I belonged anywhere, so... it didn't matter really where I was. Hasetsu was about the best place to be, whilst I was feeling like that.

I'm seeing a counsellor now. I yelled at him the other day, apparently this was progress. He's... he's alright actually. He hasn't put me on pills. Sensei told me about his pills once, about how he was on different things for a while in Detroit when he was first diagnosed with anxiety and he hated it, so I really didn't want to take them either. They might work for other people, but... if they didn't help Yuuri they won't help me either. I don't give a shit if that's stupid, that's it.

Victor... yours going alright? It's weird, thinking of you in therapy too. I mean... you're happy... right? I know that Yuuri's retirement hit you hard but... I don't get it.

I really did get it, in the end, when you guys moved out to your house. You know, that... that you two just work, you know? I'm kind of glad you dragged me to that first viewing, Victor, even though it was fucking chucking it down with rain. It was a good pick, I could picture you guys there too. Yakov never said anything, but... I think he was impressed too, when he came for  _Onsen On Ice 2_ with Mila. I think he stopped worrying about you after that; retirement suited you, training in Hasetsu had fitted you. I think... for a while he was waiting for you to come back. I know he's never going to tell you this, but he's really proud of you, Victor.

Remember the sparklers on the beach? Phichit took some amazing photos of it. I still can't believe you guys got  _me_ to read out your vows for you, I mean, couldn't you have gotten someone else to do that? It was... it was an honour though. Bloody saps, the pair of you, in those white  _Stammi Vicino_ suits... and everyone crying. I didn't cry. I _didn't_.

Lilia liked your ballet studio. She has a lot of respect that you thought of it, let alone executed it, that dance is a part of your home. I think of it during practice sometimes, of going through steps with Katsu. She's told me to always think of it now, because apparently I'm less shit when I do. Hag.

* * *

* * *

Hey, Katsu-sensei, you still consulting for Kenjy? He was... I thought he was going to get really annoying after a while, but... after we all went to the NHK together, I kind of got to like him. He's such a geek, but... he's just so unapologetic about it, like it's normal, like he couldn't think of any other way of being. Respect for that.

His NHK performance was awesome. He deserved to win. I felt so... unprepared. Not... that's not your fault. I started training properly really late, I should have... I should have gotten my shit together earlier. The counsellor says that I shouldn't feel bad about any of that, that I could have taken as long as I needed off, but... I needed to go back to skating. I need skating. It's... well, it's my life. You get that, right? It's your lives too, you just live it together.

On my days off sometimes we used to hang out in Fukuoka, Kenjirou and I. Our English was a bit hit and miss sometimes, but it was alright. He showed me round the university and his favourite hangouts around his home rink. One time we skated together, worked on our SPs. I met his family; his mom's a hairdresser - who do you think does his hair? - and he's the eldest of three. He's so funny with his siblings, they're all a lot younger, and they fucking  _adore_ him, particularly as he knows Katsuki-senshu and Yuri Plisetski. The youngest got a nosebleed when I walked in, reminded me of Yuuko-chan.

Oi, speaking of Yuuko, tell her to cut it out. Stop asking me if I've got a girlfriend yet. Mila's bad enough with her teasing. By the way I sent some stuff for the trips, ask her if she's got them yet. You know how bad the mail is.

That was an epic night though, in Hiroshima, wasn't it? Hadn't had that much fun in ages! I mean, Mila and Otabek were idiots - well, Mila was an idiot, she should have kept her mouth shut, stupid thing to say. Otabek told me. It bothered him, I could tell. Bothered me too. She really liked him as well, before he asked her out, I know. She used to swoon whenever we watched his performances, it was kind of funny. Stupid. At least Kenjy had a good time, drama-free. You know, for such a nerd, he's got his head screwed on right; he has a girlfriend, someone from his Literature class. Literally, he liked how she laughed one day at one of his jokes, so he asked her out, and that was it. No games, no mess. They're still together, nearly as long as you guys have been. I've met her; he's got good taste, although her hair's purple.

You two were funny. Gross, but funny. Couldn't have been more obvious if you'd tried. You  _really_ can't keep your hands off each other, can you?

(I envy you. I want someone like that.)

Anyway, I'm glad that the NHK was fun at least, even though it wasn't perfect. It kept my mind off of...

I don't really know what happened in Moscow. I mean,  _I do, obviously_. I mean... the whole... you know...

I just couldn't sleep on my own. I closed my eyes, and thought of stupid things, and had to open them again. I don't know why I needed to... you know. Sleep with you guys.  _Not like that_. NEVER LIKE THAT. Ugh... but... it helped. Thanks. I'm sorry if it was weird for you.

Okay, I do know... I used to do that with Grandpa when I had nightmares, or when it was cold, or if I was sick. My counsellor thinks that might have been it. I... I think he might be right.

And I'm sorry I messed things up at Rostelecom. I... I really wanted to do well. I was on home turf, in front of a Russian crowd, I wanted to do them all right... I wanted to do Grandpa right. We're from Moscow, it was home, or... it was meant to feel like home. But it didn't. It was fucking horrible, missing that feeling.

You scared the shit out of me, taking me back to my old rink. I'm pissed as well... I used to send money to it, whenever I got a good deal from sponsors, so that they could keep it going, God knows what they were doing with the money. That homophobic asshole was probably... whatever. That did piss me off though, the way he looked at you. You're Victor Nikiforov, you're a fucking national hero, I don't give a fuck who you put your dick in, and neither should he.

I got it then, why you guys yo-yo from being all over each other at home to... well, almost nothing. It surprised me, that I didn't like you guys hiding it. You're losers, but at least be yourselves, be losers together, not... hmm.

It's difficult. Thinking about... thinking about Grandpa, trying not to miss him. He was... he was always there for me, you know? It's... it's still painful, knowing that he isn't. I'm... I'm afraid that it'll always be like this, that I'll always wish he was here. If it's difficult thinking about it, imagine how impossible it was to talk about it, even with... well, even with you guys, even by then.

I know that things weren't perfect, but... thanks. Thanks for taking me in, and looking after me, and coaching me. Both of you. That means a lot. You guys did great. I know that you were always worried that you were fucking things up for me, and I'm sorry I didn't know how to tell you that you weren't, but... really. My counsellor says it sounds like I was in good hands, that it was a good thing that you guys did all that.

You're family. I haven't got any real family left, so you're it. You guys need anything, you call me. That's what family does.

* * *

* * *

I'd rather keep out of the quad axel stuff, if it's all the same to you. I mean... that did quite a number on the two of you, and I still don't get why, so... yeah.

It was weird though, trying to practice it. As if axels aren't difficult enough to begin with. I think this year I'm not going to bother; it's never felt like _my_ jump, you know? Not like it is for Katsu, or the lutz is Chris' signature or Victor's flip. But... I dunno. I was kind of glad that you didn't want to focus too much on it. Unnerved me, when you wanted to try, Sensei... made me realise that... that...

Well, I was still a long way off, if I needed drastic measures like that. Made me work harder though, at all of it. When we finally left for Vancouver... well, I didn't feel great about any of it, but... I kept telling myself that I'm always worried that I'm not ready anyway; I just needed to get my act together and pretend like always. At least... at least...

At least when we got to Vancouver, there were a lot of friendly faces. Katsu said it reminded him of his Cup of China, being able to reunite with Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo. That was... a relief.

We were all so jet-lagged though... then hungover. I wanted to be sick during that first practice. Then you two started making out, fuck's sake.

You know, I've got a gif saved on my phone of the looks on your faces when I swooped in and hit the back of your head. Makes me laugh  _every time_.  _Every time,_ pal.

As for the rest... still trying to process what happened. My counsellor thinks that's probably best as well. So I'm just going to stop right here. It's... it's not like we've even talked, properly I mean, about it before, the three of us. We should do that sometime, rather than me write this piece of shit.

Hey, Victor, Sensei... can I come visit sometime? I... my old tiger shirt's getting a bit old, need to get a new one, so you need to take me shopping. Some time soon, right?

Let me know. Soon. Don't be a dick like always and forget to reply. Katsu, make sure he replies.

Everyone says hi. Stroke Sobachin for me.

I miss you guys. Hope you're alright. x

* * *

* * *

Yuri looks up at me, blinking with bewilderment.

"Yeah, I know," I tell him, laughing.

"Ē to..."

I laugh harder. Yuri joins me, but he grins down at my laptop with affection. Yeah... our silly, silly kitten. We both love that boy so much.

Yuri passes my laptop back to me. "I'm going to Bangkok next week for Phichit, but after..."

I nod, and start a reply. Later today I'll go to the mall, see if I can find that shirt again for him and take a picture.

Yurio's welcome here anytime. Always will be. He's family too.

* * *

To be continued...


	25. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed me? ;-)
> 
> I missed this. I've missed the guys who regularly comment and replying to them, I hope that all's going okay in your real lives.
> 
> New laptop - oh my god... it's so much EASIER doing EVERYTHING... - so new chapter, FINALLY.

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 19

December

_Love_

* * *

* * *

The sun was out as we arrived in Vancouver, albeit frostily, and all of us glared at the brightness as none of us had our sunglasses immediately to hand. Odagaki-sensei snored in the front seat of the minivan that picked us all up, and whilst Yurio jammed his headphones on and closed his eyes Minami stared with wonder in the back. Yuri fell asleep again, and I smiled down at the sight - my shoulder is always his pillow - before doing the same, even though it wasn't that far to go.

Yuri had looked so cute on the plane, when I went to wake him up before they started doing the breakfast rounds. Hair a mess, glasses carefully placed to the side and eye-mask on, mouth open and drooling into the Air Canada blanket, socked feet sticking out. He'd managed to twist on to his side, even with the seatbelt diligently clipped over his waist, and as always his hand was up on the tiny pillow next to his face. I put my own hand over it as I leant and kissed his temple, and chuckled when that didn't make the slightest difference. "The airplane toothpaste tastes terrible, moya, I'm not kissing Sleeping Beauty properly."

"... Huh...?"

He slowly pushed up the eye-mask and blinked awake, and smiled in recognition as he squinted at me. "Victor..."

I smiled. "Welcome to yesterday, Yuri."

"Yesterday...?"

I didn't blame his confusion, as strictly speaking I was wrong. But it didn't feel like nine o'clock in the morning when we landed, no matter how well or badly we had all slept. I remembered how jet-lagged we had been when Yuri and I flew to Boston for his World Championships. Ugh... Fukuoka to Haneda, to LAX, to Logan International. I  _refused_ to sit in economy class, then there seemed to be so many obstacles in order to push our beds together before we could sleep. I gave up in the end, I think... yes, I did, and spooned Yuri tightly so I didn't fall out of the twin bed, grateful that it seemed to be on the wider-side of a single bed.

Yuri and I were long used to this routine of being automatically assigned twin rooms at host hotels for competitions. This proved to not be an issue this time...

"So Mr Nikiforov," the receptionist, a young woman who clearly had tattoos hidden under her long-sleeved shirt and piercings missing from both her nose and ears in order to look 'smart', said with perfectly friendly professionalism. I smiled at the 'Mr'; I'd gotten used to the minefield of Japanese honorifics. "I have a double reserved for Mrs Odagaki, a twin for Mr Minami, a twin for Mr Plisetski, and a king for yourself and Mr Katsuki -"

My eyes widened. Admittedly, I was half-asleep at this point, but instantly she had my full attention. A what now? I didn't make those specifications, and from the look of surprise on Yuri's face - he looked like he was certain he'd misheard - he hadn't either. The receptionist, who hadn't so much as batted an eyelid at these arrangements, looked at us with alarm. "Err..." She checked her computer. "Mr Plisetski emailed ahead with the requests..." She looked up again between Yuri and I. "If it's a mistake, I can -"

"Nope!" I jumped in, trying not to grin like I'd been handed a gift from the Gods. "That is absolutely fine! Do I need to sign anything or -?"  _Or can you please give me the keys right now?_

The corner of her mouth twitched, like she had read my mind, and her eyes fell to our rings resting on the desk in front of her, and she turned back to her computer with a little smile and typed again. Within a minute, we were armed with keycards, Yurio had loudly protested when I seized him in a bear hug and loudly kissed the top of his head - "OI! Get off me, you crazy -!" - and the Gods were still smiling because instead of being next to us Yurio's room was across the hall, quite a wide hall as well, and Odagaki-sensei and Minami were on the other side of the elevator.

At our doors, Yurio pulled a face and just turned to me (Yuri seemed to still be in shock, his eyes wide, and he had yet to speak). "Just be downstairs for six, alright? Mila's reserved a table somewhere, we're all going out for dinner. And... y'know...  _shower_ , and shit."

I nodded, quite happy to go along with anything Yurio had planned for us - "for fuck's sake, Victor, it's just a room, it didn't cost me anything. Your birthdays are really close, that's all..." - and I grinned evilly and reached my arms out to hug him again, but Yurio's eyes widened and he escaped through his door, calling me a crazy, sex-addicted bastard in Russian, and tried to slam the door in my face. That fell a bit flat however, because of the soft door closer, but my attention was elsewhere on more important -

Yuri opened our door tentatively, like he wasn't sure what he was going to find, like he wasn't sure if it all wasn't a mistake. God, I really hoped it wasn't a mistake.

The Luna Crown Hotel was... well, a standard, high-starred chain hotel. The bathroom had a walk-in rain shower, a bath, but was spacious and brightly lit, with a big mirror to preen in front of. There was a large TV opposite the bed - king sized indeed, not two separate twins and someone had done the work ahead of us - and two chairs one usually finds in hotel rooms; the kind that you never actually sit in but probably throw your coat over or put a day bag on. And there were blinds on the wall-to-wall window, giving us a high-up view of English Bay, and the campus of the University of British Colombia, where the Doug Mitchell Thunderbird Sports Centre was hosting the Grand Prix Final.

Not that Yuri and I noticed until much later.

I hefted our suitcase on to the stand for it, quickly flicked the combination of the lock, and started hunting for my wash bag. I had no patience, I  _needed_. With lubricant in hand I turned to my husband -

Who was already marching toward me, and I moaned loudly into his mouth as we collided, as within seconds his hands shoved my coat off and flew over my body, starving for him. It felt so long since his birthday, since making up in his old bedroom. I might have ripped his boxers trying to get them off him... he didn't care, then or later, later he laughed; it wasn't the first time our wardrobe had been a casualty. Once undressed, Yuri backed on to the bed, upright on his knees, and I crawled up to him hungrily, flushed our bodies together, both of us hard and magnetised to each other, and I kissed him so desperately I was practically eating his mouth, returning his every moan with my own.

_Da... da, da, da..._

When I bent to retrieve the lube that I'd tossed on to the bed, I kissed down Yuri's chest, licked without care his airplane-sweaty skin, sucked at his nipple to make him throw his head back with a cry, and when I was upright again and readying my fingers he returned the favour, his hands dipping low on my back to curve me into him. When I slid my slicked-up fingers into him, Yuri choked on a cry, parting his knees slightly to open himself more to my fingers, and I almost bit his lip when he started grinding just right so he pushed back against my hand and back against me...  _oh god_...

"Me... me too... finger me too...  _o-oh_..." I gasped. He already looked  _gone, felt so good_...

"Ha-Hai...  _ah_..." Yuri swallowed, gasped for breath so he could think again, bent with a cry to reach the dropped lube as well, and then his fingers were inside me too... My eyes widened at the feeling, and I dropped my head on to his shoulder, all rhythm between us gone, trying to find the right timing so that we moved together, but barely able to do much more than make sure that our mouths met, kissing in between gasps, our free hands clutching at each other to hold each other up. My knees were already shaking on the bed... "V-Vic _tor_... I want..."

I nodded, kissed him sloppily. "T-Turn around..."

Yuri whimpered when I slid my fingers out of him, but kept moving his inside me for a few blissful moments, and then slowly, awkwardly turned around, bent over on to his hands, looked over his shoulder at me and pushed his ass up to my groin, silently begging. I didn't keep him wanting; _I wanted too_. I saw the moment when his eyes widened as I pushed into his body and his arms trembled and collapsed, unable to hold himself up, moaning obscenely, and I flung an arm round his waist to hold his hips up to mine, even as I held my head back, moan caught in my throat and my eyes watering with pleasure...  _God, he's so perfect for me_...

" _You feel so good_..." I forget which of us said it out loud.

Yuri slowly steadied himself on one hand, and reached for my arm round his waist, pulled it away gently and settled my hand on his hip. "Just... just hold on to me like... like that...  _please_..."

I nodded, not that he could see, leant down and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, and we both moaned as my movement shifted me inside him. I moved back upright, took a deep breath... and took a step back in my mind.

I looked down at my gorgeous husband, from where he was struggling to take off his glasses and tossing them towards the pillows for safety, down the muscles of his back and the curve of his spine, the elegant narrowing at his waist into his hips, to his asscheeks cushioned right against me where we were connected, where he was trying to keep still, waiting for me. "Victor...  _onegai_..."

He knows I love it when he begs in his own tongue. I was going to make him mindless... I moved, and watched as the slightest of movements, just to grind that little bit deeper, to rediscover the exact spot I needed to find inside him, the exact spot he needed me to find... I watched as he lost himself in pleasure, bending and moaning my name into the mattress, clutching desperately at the sheets. And though I could feel my own pleasure building in my core as I found a steady rhythm - it takes an odd mood for Yuri to like it really rough, I'm not entirely sure I like it when he is in such a mood, was glad that this wasn't one of those times - I barely paid it heed. I just wanted...

Yuri pushed up from the bed, almost falling back against me, spreading his legs a little wider to not tighten from the upright angle, and I shifted to accommodate him, and I moaned into his neck as he moved back against me, keeping rhythm, his hands clutching wildly at me behind him, trying to hold on. "V- _Victor... I'm... so... ooh... I'm so clo-close..._ shimatta..."

I knew... Christ, I knew, I know his body so well, know the flavours of his climaxes. He was starting to tremble against my chest, his head falling back, mouth slack open and eyes shut, lost... and then the pinch in his forehead as he realised it was still elusive, still out of reach. I didn't even think. " _Come in me_."

"Na-nani..." My words slowly translated in his mind, and he twisted his head to meet my eyes, and I saw how desperate he was. He nodded, close to tears at how close he was. I pulled out of him, wanting to hush him gently when he looked bereft but then he was turning, falling back on top of the bed covers, reaching out of me as I clambered on top and sunk onto him, swallowing my moan as his fingers bruised my hips.  _Der'mo... yes_... He grabbed my thighs and bucked into me, trying to control himself as I ground down on him, gasping at how tight I still felt and how  _perfect_ he felt in me...  _oh god_...

" _Victor_..." I leant up, just enough, kept my eyes on his face as his eyes rolled back and his moans got caught, strangled, and he bucked into me frantically as I felt him come, filling me, and the catch in his throat released as he came long and hard and agonisingly before falling back to the bed, limp and past sane.

Oh my god... the step that I'd taken back betrayed me, flinging me a thousand miles into the inferno, leaving me too far gone to go back but still out of reach...  _that was incredible, watching you come apart for me_...

I stayed still, kissed Yuri's cheek, his jaw, smiled as I felt his seed inside me trying to obey gravity. He slowly came back to me, his hands shaking as he reached for me. I moaned contentedly as he raised my face to kiss me properly. " _Victor_..." I smiled against his lips at how he breathed my name, barely noticing when he frowned. "You... you haven't come yet..." No, I hadn't; I'd been very pleasantly distracted. "Get... get back inside me... come in me too."

I lifted up a little, uncertain but he nodded, sure, and I did as I was told. We both whimpered when I lifted off of him and he fell out of me, limp, and I moved between his legs and slid back inside him, both of us moaning again. My head dropped into his shoulder; I just wanted to stop and stay there, for eternity if he would let me. Yuri breathed hard, sensitive but clutching at me anyway. "Victor, move, take me... however you need me, just take me -  _ah!_ "

Those two words, repeated -  _take me_ \- slammed through my gut and swept away my resistance, and I was thrown right into the deep end. I thrust into him, hard, suddenly so close I thought I was going mad,  _shouted_ his name as Yuri slid his fingers back into my wet ass, begging me to come, telling me how good I felt, his eyes never leaving me, and he cried out as I exploded inside him, and I almost sobbed as pleasure incinerated me. My mind slipped away as he caught me.

When I came too, it was to find Yuri stroking my hair, chuckling to himself, still breathing hard, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. "Hi. Welcome back."

I frowned. "Hey... how long -"

Beneath me, Yuri smiled, definitely pleased. "Only a minute or so."

I was still inside him, on top of him. "I'm crushing you..."

"No, don't move -!" Yuri's hand gripped me, tried to stop me, and he whimpered when it was too late and I fell out of him, and I smiled as I looked down. We'd made quite a mess. I kissed him to placate him, and slid to his side, curling his leg over my hip to compensate so we were still close.

"That was good..." I murmured contentedly, pressing my nose against his.

Yuri started laughing. My eyes widened. Umm... "That..." He kept on giggling, reaching out to hold me a little closer. "That... that's an understatement..."

Oh. I laughed too. Then I just laughed at him. "You looked so  _wrecked_."

Yuri blushed, but chuckled too. "So do you."

I let my eyes close, and nodded. I felt him press forward, and kissed him back blindly. Then he tugged at my hand, making me open my eyes. "Come on, we're both gross, we need a shower."

I pouted. "Sleep..."

Yuri chuckled again. Bloody stamina, how he still had energy... "Shower then sleep." And he pulled me up, grabbed my wash kit from where I had left it on top of our suitcase and lead me to the bathroom.

"Can I get shower, cuddles then sleep?" I asked, hopeful, trying not to yawn.

Yuri looked over his shoulder at me, bemused, as he turned the water on, held his hand under the rain shower head to test the temperature. "Anata, you can have shower,  _sex_ , cuddles and then sleep, if you want. But you're not getting anything without the shower."

I blinked at him. "Hand me the shower gel.  _Right now_."

* * *

* * *

I'd been so close... damn it. Victor knows how much I love trying to come without him touching me, by just moving in me right... I really shouldn't complain; once his energy was back under the warm shower, he hoisted me up against the tiles and chased what I'd been after the whole time. It was almost stupidly easy; his flushed face was an enormous turn on. I'll never have enough of seeing him look like that,  _for me_.

After washing away the sweat of sex and recycled plane air, Victor wrapped me up in his arms with a soppy grin, making me laugh at how I had to hold up his weight, so sated and proud of himself, and I happily let him claim the cuddles he'd asked for in the first place, until our skin pimpled from the cold. I gently batted his hands away so I could turn the water off and grabbed towels, kissing the look of silly dejection on his face away, and took his hand and led him back to bed.

He grinned as I slipped naked under the covers and followed. "Yuri, I'm sure we brought pyjamas. Are you going to take liberties?"

I laughed. "I would probably fall asleep halfway through if I did."

He wrinkled his nose up at the prospect. "That's not sexy."

I smiled. "No, it's not," I said, on the edge between playful and straight. Well, it isn't. I leant up and kissed his nose. "Later though? I need to sleep, Anata."

His attention peaked at the promise, and then busied himself with tucking us in, spooning me. I held his hand over my chest, cosied my back into his chest, turned my cheek so he could kiss me and reached up for the light switch above the headboard. The room turned to grey winter light - we hadn't closed the curtains, so our bodies had some reference to realign with - and I fell asleep with his lips tickling my ear.

When I woke, I thought for a moment that I was twenty-four again, that we were in Barcelona, and sighed happily as I remembered. We were in Canada, I wasn't here to compete, and Victor was still asleep, breathing evening into my neck, a surprisingly soothing sensation. I was still holding his hand so his arm was over me, but I felt a chill from where the duvet wasn't pulled up high enough, from the air con that had switched itself on automatically at some point.

Slowly I turned, and tucked the thick duvet in around Victor as I carefully slid out from his hold, to better admire my husband in his slumber. He frowned, as though he knew I was watching, but slept on. I smiled at the sight. I wasn't getting out of bed just yet, but...

I stretched out, grimacing as my aching limbs protested, and then grinned at the fact that I could stretch so easily. I remembered all the times Victor pushed our beds together in hotel rooms across the world, not wanting to contest the assumptions of whoever arranged the bookings. Half the time he slept on my side anyway, only pushed the beds together so he wouldn't fall down the gap during the night, just in case. I grinned all the wider that Yurio had thought to arrange this for us, had communicated with the hotel our needs. For months he had been rolling his eyes and threatening to barf every time Victor and I showed any affection. Daft boy. I was so very, very grateful; I remembered the unease we had had staying in Yakov's apartment in Moscow, juxtaposed with the room we had stayed in in Tokyo, over two years ago, when I welcomed Victor back home. I thought of our bed at home, of how it had once fit in Victor's room at my parents', now Yurio's room.

As I wiggled my toes, I thought of sightseeing in Barcelona with Victor, of how in the European city he hadn't held back as much, had held my hand and we'd walked arm-in-arm, our arms around each other. I had heard that Canada was a less restrictive place to be for the LGBT+ community, and wondered... can I hold my husband's hand here? Can I kiss him in public even? The receptionist hadn't batted an eye at the prospect of the two of us needing one bed. I hoped it was all alright; I wanted Victor to feel loved whilst we were here, wanted to feel the same. I certainly didn't want to hide our rings again. I never wanted to do that again at all.

Victor had told me the same. I frowned, as always did when I thought this; I suspected it would be a long time before we went back to Victor's homeland. He'd told me not to feel guilty about that, but... I still did, a little. I turned to look at him, repeated a promise I hadn't made out loud to him yet. If he ever wanted to live somewhere else, I wouldn't object in the slightest. He'd given up so much for me; my turn next. I'd do it gladly.

I looked past him to the window, where the sun had started its descent. Damn, I thought. So much for trying to beat the jet-lag. It was too late to go out and see anything, and besides, Yurio had had strict instructions from Mila to come to dinner. That sounded fun, actually. I was looking forward to it, I was surprised to find. I didn't want to wake Victor either.

Anata... you had slept so badly for days, and were so peaceful in that moment. I was happy to let you sleep, but just like in Tokyo, I felt restless. I needed to stretch properly, to move. I thought of going to the gym... and immediately thought against it. I don't find gyms to be particularly relaxing. So what to do instead... hmm... oddly, I fancied...

I left Victor a note, as I couldn't find his phone to make sure he got the message, though I sent it anyway.

_Join me at the pool, Sleepy-head? I love you x_

I smiled at the last three words. I'd written them without thinking, had done so so many times in the past by then, and thought of how I hoped it would make Victor feel when he read them later. I looked down at his sleeping face, smiled - even if he were sick, snotty and mopey, he's still the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, Victor doesn't have it in him to look ugly, ever - and carefully kissed his temple, fussed at the duvet to make sure he was covered, half hoping he'd wake and join me anyway, and then left him to sleep.

Even indoors, the water was cold. There was nothing for it; I dived in.

The hotel boasted a sub-basement 25m swimming pool, along with a suite of saunas and steam rooms lining the length, and a hot tub at the far end, flanked by faux-Roman busks of goddesses to match the ancient classical look. Not exactly original, nor was the hot tub a novelty for me as it is for most; I grew up bathing in hot mineral water piped up from volcanic hot springs, some artificial bubbles don't compare. It wasn't even as hot. And besides, I wasn't interested in lounging; I warmed up with free style, trying to remember old lessons of how to best power through the water. The stretch of my strokes felt good after all those hours on the plane and sat in departure lounges, and ironed out my muscles that felt locked from the shocks of orgasm either. The cold was sobering and soothing, even though the chlorine as always smelt terrible, and I switched to breast stroke, keeping my head aloft above the water, feeling my stomach being pulled taut and enjoying the power of the frog-like kicks - my favourite stroke, really. Victor finds it fitting; it is a stroke of those with stamina, as I can swim like this for hours and not notice the time. I could swim, and think.

We were finally here. At the Grand Prix Final.

It was my fifth. Not  _my_ fifth, but all the same, I felt... humbled. Nothing compared to this, the first major pinnacle of the figure skating season. A wholly different competition, really, to the Worlds, due to the series of qualifiers before it. The Gold Medal of the Grand Prix Final is won thrice, in a way. I well remembered how hard I had worked to get my Silver, well remembered the trials I had had to go through to earn it.

I smiled as I turned at the end, started another lap. I had only done it, had only gotten through that year because Victor believed in me. And look at us now!

Hmm... look at us now, I thought, my smile checking itself.

 _Don't worry_ , my head jumped in first, _daijōbu_. I did smile then; Victor's voice, I could picture his gentle smile. I sighed, stopped swimming and turned on to my back, kicking lightly to float.

The water made the ceiling ripple with light.

I took careful stock. We... we were okay. I was okay. Victor... I was going to make sure he would be okay. It was a terrible weight in my gut, knowing that he wasn't, not really, but...

I was going to look after him. I loved him, I was his husband, I married him, I was going to look after him. I was going to learn my lessons - no more secrets, no more keeping things back - and move forward with him. I wanted him in my life forever. I wasn't naive; I knew that would take some work, that it would not be easy... and I didn't want it to be. I never wanted to be lazy about it, to take him for granted.

I wondered what that would look like, the future. Moving forward... forward to what?

I had a vague picture of what I would be doing for a little while at least. I was committed to collaborating with Phichit in all of his endeavours for as long as he needed my support, was more than happy to back Kenjirou-kun as Japan's Ace in whatever capacity he needed too. For as long as Yurio needed me to be his coach, he took precedence over these, but... I suspected he wouldn't need Victor and I forever. He would return to Russia, to Yakov when he was ready; Yakov had already queried whether that would be after the Grand Prix Final, or later in the season. Victor and I were prepared to support Yurio all the way through the season, though we had yet to speak to him about it. One competition at a time... but we were subtly getting prepared for the Russian Nationals, for the Europeans in Minsk not long after.

But those were only my commitments, really. Victor...

 _Talk to Victor_ , I thought.  _Figure that all out together._ Still, I thought of some ideas too. I couldn't help but imagine...

I had actually looked up where we could fly directly from Fukuoka. Because we didn't know how long Yurio wanted to keep us on, I wasn't sure when we would actually be able to get a holiday - at the very least, both Victor and I were adamant that if we kept going to the Worlds in Saitama, we were all going to take a break before tackling the next season regardless of anyone's future plans... but before, there wasn't time. But Victor and I definitely needed a holiday somewhere; Koh Ai felt so long ago, and our honeymoon climbing Mt Fuji had been exhausting and brief, albeit fulfilling, and... we were travelling a lot anyway just for competitions. I didn't want, and I suspected Victor would concur, to travel far for only a little while and have to return quickly, for a break to be a stress in itself. Koh Ai, where we had rested our souls for a month, had spoilt us. But...

Victor's birthday was coming up, clashing as always with the Nationals and the beginning of Christmas celebrations. His thirty-first... he hadn't mentioned it - he never did, his own birthday had never meant much to him, but it did to me - and I hadn't been sure what to get him this year. In that pool, floating, I decided for certain. I just needed to check dates. Places to stay.

Did you know you can get to both Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi directly from Fukuoka? Singapore was a contender as well, but I ended up giving Victor a copy of the Lonely Planet guide to Vietnam for his birthday. Eventually when the season was over we went sight-seeing in Saigon, quad-biking on the sand dunes at Mui Ne, stayed in the 'Crazy House' in Dalat (easily the kookiest and nicest place we've ever been to), bathed in the mud pools at Nha Trang, waited for suits to be finished being made in Hoi An and enjoyed rainy days in the old town, visited the ruined Imperial City of Hue, got the night train to Hanoi (the beds were as narrow as coffins. But it was certainly an experience!), got lost in bustling Hanoi, and floated in the mists of Ha Long Bay. It was a lot of travelling about, of night buses (Victor could only just fit into the seats!) and last minute coaches, but it was amazing; we were both glad that we came up with the idea.

It was a start, but I found myself frowning in that pool. It wasn't enough. It was only a couple of weeks worth of distractions, the plan that was forming in my mind... it would all be wonderful, but it wasn't...

It wasn't a life.

"Yuri?"

I... _I knew that voice_. I yelped in surprise, nearly choked on chlorinated - god, I hate it - water as I put my feet down on the bottom, and I squinted up as best as I could at the familiar figure at the edge of the pool who was already laughing at me good naturedly. Oh I missed that laugh. "Phi-!" I coughed, and my best friend carried on laughing, a balm even as my lungs burnt on chemicals.

"Yuri! Don't die!" Phichit teased, and bent down as I waded through the water to him. "You alright? Surprise!"

I nodded, grinning so much my cheeks felt stretched. "What... what...?"

Phichit smiled widely. "You didn't think I was going to miss the Grand Prix Final this year, did you? Guang Hong qualified!"

I grinned. Of course, I felt silly questioning it now, though I felt a little put out that he hadn't told me. It's Victor who likes surprises, not me. "You should have said, I would have tried to figure out travelling together! Is he here yet?"

Phichit nodded. "He messaged from the airport, his flight just got in. He asked if he could join everyone for dinner, that won't be a problem will it?"

I shook my head eagerly. "Of course he can come! Well... I'm sure Mila won't mind! The more the merrier!" I frowned. How did Phichit know about -

"I bumped into Mila in the lobby last night, we both got in around the same time," Phichit explained. He winked down at me. "She joked about getting a separate table for all the retired skaters, the 'Olds' as she called us."

I pulled a face at that. I was twenty-seven, I wasn't old... just out of the loop apparently. "Have you seen anyone else?" I swam up to the edge of the pool, put my arms on the side as Phichit sat down and dipped his legs in to the water.

"Emil was at breakfast this morning, he and Sala arrived in the middle of the night, their flight was delayed." We shared a frown. Was it normal for Emil to be at breakfast alone? "And I saw Otabek head out with Yurio around lunch time. JJ's posted on Instagram, he's staying at a different hotel with his girlfriend." Phichit then grinned down at me. "Chris is here, we went for a drink yesterday at the hotel bar. He's so funny, he says I'm not doing my duty as your best man and getting with the maid of honour."

I snorted. "Chris is definitely no 'maid'."

"At least he volunteered himself for the role, didn't lump me with it," Phichit giggled, unoffended. "He was a bit put out when I pointed out that I'm straight. 'Not even a _little_ bit bi?' he asked."

I laughed. "I thought Victor said he had a boyfriend now, or is it too early or... I've lost track. He was gushing about someone when we were in Moscow."

"Oh, I'd say 'boyfriend' now," Phichit teased. I blinked up at him, lost. "He's here, I met him last night too." Phichit's eyes widened. "Chris has  _really good taste_. I might be a 'little bit' after all."

I laughed again with him. "I don't know, Chris used to flirt with me, don't be so sure."

"Well, he  _definitely_ has good taste then," Phichit scolded, and he reached out a foot and kicked me gently under the water, an old reminder.  _Stop putting yourself down_ , I could hear him saying, plenty of times, in my memories of being room-mates in Detroit. "Speaking of good taste, how's your husband?" Phichit started laughing. "You know, I came by earlier, I was going to knock, but it sounded like you were busy."

"... Ē to..."

Phichit laughed. "Oh, Yuri! I've missed hearing you say that!"

I smiled easily, my cheeks still burning but my embarrassment slowly fading. "Missed you too."

"Come on, let's go in the hot tub and catch up properly!"

I grinned and nodded, got out of the pool and followed, and pretended to veer off to drown myself when Phichit told me he was glad that I was still getting the D, that the honeymoon period wasn't anywhere near over. Eh...

* * *

* * *

When I woke, there were a few things that were off.

Firstly, I was alone. My husband was missing, and his spot on the bed was cool to the touch. Sulking, I grabbed his pillow, and cuddled that instead, before flinging it across the room in annoyance when it just didn't substitute.

Secondly, my body clock was so off I didn't know if it was the dawn or dusk that I was seeing out of the window, as pretty as the effect in the sky was.

And third, I couldn't find my phone to check what the time was.

My phone, it turned out, was kicked over by the chairs. I guess it must have fallen out of my pocket and bounced and skidded across the carpet when I was stripping frantically earlier. Phone in hand, I then knew, in this order, that Yuri was at the pool, and that the sun was on the descent, as it was roughly four pm. My Instagram then told me that Yuri was with Phichit, from the selfies, Yuri looking slightly awkward as he usually did, out of practice. When I got back into bed Yuri's note crumpled under my ass, and I smiled at the repeat of his invitation to join him. No, moya lyubov', have fun with your best friend.

As soon as I thought that however the door opened carefully, and my Yuri came in in a bathrobe, tentatively, and smiled instantly as he saw that I was awake, and then his eyes widened as - I grabbed the duvet and flung it over my lap as I realised that he had company.

"Hello!"

I waved back to Phichit, sort of happy to see him. That's not to say... I like the Thai immensely, with his generous, bubbly nature, but I rather suspected that Yuri would not be entirely happy for me to parade about with no clothes on in front of his best friend. Even so, Yuri came round the bed to give me a kiss, and I was still sleepy enough to do nothing but smile into his palms on my cheeks. Then I wrinkled my nose at the smell of chlorine on him. Before I could say anything - Yuri didn't often go swimming, because of the smell - Yuri looked up. "Oh, Phichit, do you want to use the bathroom still?" I looked over my shoulder and noted the awkward way the Thai man stood in his robe. Ah. Yuri moved to the bathroom door swiftly, getting there before Phichit, switched on the light and swiped a bathrobe from the back of the door, pointedly ignoring his friend as he tittered at the clothes flung about the floor before disappearing to answer the call of nature.

Yuri came back to me and swept the robe around my shoulders, fussing, possessive. I almost purred at the feeling. "Be grateful that I didn't turn you into an ice cream sandwich," Yuri said in a low voice, his hands gripping the collar of the robe.

I burst out laughing, remembering Chris and I flinging ourselves at Yuri in Barcelona, and gratefully pulled the robe on properly, and watched as Yuri grabbed all of our things off the floor, making it a little less obvious what we'd been doing earlier. When he was satisfied I held out my hand to him and pulled him in for another kiss.

"Nice swim?" I asked, brushing his damp hair back.

He nodded. "Hmm. Gomen, I just really needed to -"

I kissed him again, to shut him up. No apologies needed. "S'okay. It was a long flight." I smiled up at him. The exercise made him glow; he felt brighter, though that might have been his best friend too. And sex. A joint effort, then. "I might go for a run, I need exercise too," and I stretched pointedly. "We're going for Italian later, it's all going to be carbs. And I'm not sure how much exerting activity I'll be doing later..."

"Victor..." Yuri warned, but he was grinning too as he kissed me again.

I made up my mind as the toilet flushed and the pipes hummed as the taps ran, and as Phichit continued to grin as he came out I remembered that we'd left the lube in the shower. Oops. I riffled through the suitcase looking for running things, umming and erring over how cold it might be - Phichit said very cold, but he'd just come in from Bangkok. Winter doesn't exist that close to the Equator - and then ducked into the bathroom to change in privacy, and asked Phichit how he was as I came out and laced my trainers up. His girlfriend had gone back to Australia for a few weeks, I found out, but she was planning on coming back to Thailand soon, was applying for EFL teaching jobs.

Yuri took my hand as I stood to go. "Are you sure you want to go out? There is the gym," he asked as I pocketed my phone, got earphones ready.

"Yeah, out, I think," and squeezed his hand. "Get some air."

Yuri nodded, smiled up at me. "Ask at reception where's the best place to go, okay? It's getting dark."

I smiled, caught the touched look on Phichit's face. Normally I'd tease Yuri for worrying, except it always feels wonderful being reminded that he cares about me so much, and this time I didn't know what to say, particularly in front of his friend. I wanted to joke about how lucky I was to have such a worrywart, except... I wouldn't be joking, and I didn't want anyone to think that I was.

So I just nodded. "Hmm. I won't be long, I'll be back so I've got plenty of time to get ready for dinner."

"Well, in that case, shouldn't you be doing that now? You've only got _two hours_..." Yuri teased, and he giggled as I pinched his cheek in retaliation, kissed me back as I leant down, short and sweet, and headed out.

"I still can't get used to Katsuki Yuri kissing Victor Nikiforov..." I heard Phichit say, awed, as the door shut behind me.

Neither can I.

The receptionist who checked us in earlier was still there, and she smiled as I approached, asking for a recommendation for a route to run. She looked out the doors to the growing dark with a frown. "Well, I wouldn't recommend the park right now. You're here for the Grand Prix Final though, right? You been to the Thunderbird yet?" I shook my head. "You could run there, go around the university campus. If you go -" And she gave me instructions perfectly, telling me to look for landmarks for when to turn. She ran this same route herself, she said, though less for the exercise and more to get to the library to study, and she gave me an idea of how long it would take. It sounded exactly what I needed.

I noticed a few things as I ran. Firstly, I knew when I was on the University of British Columbia's campus, not just because of the buildings, but because everyone was younger than me, apart from the lecturers and professors, could tell the post-graduates from the under-grads, which made me feel  _old_. Secondly, the diversity of the students; Middle-East Asians, South Asian, South East Asian, East Asian... to be more specific I would be making too many assumptions, but I could picture Yuri and Phichit studying here, had Celestino not scouted them once upon a time. And that was just the Asians... it made me appreciate that, in the history of the world, the Americas were one of the newer civilisations, created by multiple, older civilisations. The slimmest of minorities can call themselves 'true' Americans, whilst in reality predominantly white people were from Europe once, black people unwillingly from Africa and the Caribbean.

As a Russian living in Japan, I will, if only out of self-interest, always advocate fewer immigration restrictions. The history of humanity is built on people moving all over the place, and deciding to stick somewhere for a time. I know better than to claim ownership over the dirt we walk on.

After all, only in a world where we can all go almost anywhere could I have met Yuri.

But perhaps I'm being too political. I'm only a figure skater, what do I know... hmm.

Anyway. The other key thing that I noted during my run was that buildings shrink and expand according to one's mental outlook.

The Doug Mitchell Thunderbird Sports Centre (what a fantastic name! 'Thunderbird'!) was... well, it felt smaller than I had expected, when I got to the entrance and studied the lettering above the doors. Then I ran round the building, and realised that, simply from just how long it took to circle the arena, that of course it was lot bigger than my head was telling me.

I had never competed there. During the course of my career, Skate Canada International was held in varying locations across the country. Even the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics, which I had been honoured to attend for the Team Event, just before I peaked, was held at the Pacific Coliseum. Now that building, when I was in my early twenties, had seemed  _enormous_ , like I was going to be swallowed by it, by the Olympic emblem everywhere, and never come out.

Now however... hmm. Maybe I really was getting old. Now that my last Olympics was behind me, it didn't hold the same power over me. I rather missed it, that feeling of awe.

In the morning, as we arrived with Yurio for public practice, the boy stared up at the facade in naked nervousness. But on my run, I realised that I had missed a key moment in Yurio's life: seeing the look on his face as he arrived at Pyeongchang earlier that year. The 2018 Winter Games were his first Olympics, and I had instead arrived separately with Yuri from Hasetsu, and instead got to share that moment with my partner, and seen the look of awe on Yuri's face as he arrived at the highest level of competing as my coach. Yuri had never been to the Olympics; he'd intended to, had been training for it for Sochi 2014, but his anxiety spiked as a result and he had to duck out, knowing he wasn't ready, physically or mentally. I did ask him if he wanted to compete at Pyeongchang - he was long recovered by then - but... he said he wanted to go, but for me.

I'm not certain that either of us truly believed that, but... well. What's done is done.

It had been amusing though, smuggling him into my room in the Olympic Village. I say 'smuggle', I got the impression that the authorities were happy to turn a blind eye so long as we didn't break things or embarrass ourselves. Then we learnt our lesson and instead I smuggled myself into Yuri's room, away from the athletes celebrating just as hard as they had earned their victories, and into the quieter halls for coaches. I really had gotten old; I wasn't interested in the parties, and just wanted to cuddle up with a movie with Yuri and sleep. It was the least nerve-wracking Olympics I had, whilst Yurio, still seventeen and forbidden from drinking, came to loathe nights.

The other thing I noticed of course was that it was  _really damn cold_. Not as cold as St Petersburg, but I'd gotten used to the milder winters of Kyushu, and Vancouver was colder than that. I hurried back, and flung myself on to my husband again. This time he started laughing, laughed harder as Phichit snapped a picture of me nuzzling my pink cheek against Yuri's, his bathrobed arms round me, still smelling of the swimming pool.

Phichit left to get ready as Yuri ran us a bath, and we snuggled together in the hot water, only just fitting and missing our much larger bath at home, Yuri lazily massaging my scalp as he washed my hair. I closed my eyes and smiled, happy to be directed to dip my head back to rinse, and I blew bubbles as my chin went under, making Yuri giggle. He got out to properly scrub the chlorine out of his pores in the shower, and he caught me up on news of  _The King and the Skater On Ice II_ as I stayed in the tub to soak a little longer, waiting my turn to rinse off.

I felt better. My run had taken away my restlessness, and the dark and the cold had started to reset my body clock; it felt like dinner time. And most of all I felt loved. I could take that feeling, all of those feelings, and face others as myself. Before we got to Vancouver, I... I'm not sure I could have done that, might have hidden away behind a smile and made excuses to stay with Yuri and room service, been selfish. Instead, I was looking forward to seeing everyone, to seeing -

Chris laughed in my face. "Married life suits you  _very well_ , mon ami!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, bemused. "Well, it does, but... I must look like shit right now, I'm  _so_ jet-lagged."

He winked at me. "You look  _fucked_ , Victor. If you were a woman and I had no manners, I'd be asking when's your due date."

I couldn't help it; I laughed. Next to me, listening, Yuri blushed, but smiled to himself...  _proudly_. So you should, moya lyubov'.

* * *

* * *

To be continued... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter, when I wrote it by hand, was... quite a bit longer. So that's the next bit, I'm hitting pause for now.
> 
> There's... umm... something else I've been writing as well. I'm not sure how it's going to come out, but...
> 
> Look out for Waking Beauty. It's not got anything really to do with Memoir, and I might not continue with it, as it's being re-drafted constantly, but... it's stuck in my head, and growing. But please, if you do read it, please give me some constructive feedback. I'm not kidding, go harsh. Because if I'm going to pull off a bloody Yuri!!! On Ice-does-Sleeping Beauty, I'm going to need to know exactly which bits don't work! That includes the whole thing, if that's the case!
> 
> But anyway. Please leave a 'hello' on here too :-)


	26. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up where we left off :-)
> 
> Apologies for any lingering typos, have had to cram typing this up from paper drafts in amongst my coursework, so had to do a rush-edit. But... well, here we go!
> 
> In other news... 6000 hits milestone!!! 200 kudos!!! :-D :-D :-D

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 20

_Life_

* * *

* * *

"Are you trying to say I've put on weight, Christophe?" I asked, teasing.

My friend grinned evilly across the table at me. "Well, now that you mention it..."

I grabbed a breadstick and chucked it at him, making him laugh. He plucked it out of his lap where it had fallen, looked at it painfully - I sympathised, breadsticks are not featured in our diets - and then he shrugged and munched it anyway. Well, we were retired after all.

His boyfriend, sat between us, chuckled at the two of us, but said nothing, grinning into his wine glass.

Chris and I needed to  _talk_. He hadn't told me that his new boyfriend was  _hot_. Later, whilst our starters were being taken away - a lot of salads with no dressing around the table, as if to justify the mains that were coming - Yuri leant back and whispered into my ear that Phichit had warned him, but, and I quote,  _damn_. I had snorted with laughter into my water, making Yuri laugh at me, and the rest of the table just stared at the pair of us, out of the joke.

Yurio, on the other side of the table, just rolled his eyes and carried on his conversation with Otabek.

I had to commend Mila's seating arrangements, having directed all of us to seats with ordered precision. This get-together was her idea, and she had reserved that rare thing: a circular table for twelve. Next to Yuri was Phichit, Guang Hong, Minami, Yurio, Otabek, Mila (of course she'd seat herself next to Otabek. Wise girl. He had made no objection either), Sala, Emil, who seemed to favour talking to Chris, and lastly...

"Malik, right?" Sala leant over, eyes hungry for gossip and eagerly drinking in the man's milk-chocolate brown skin. "How did you meet Christophe?"

He glanced quickly at my friend - I was an instant fan. I liked how he looked at Chris. It was how Chris  _deserved_ to be looked at, like he couldn't look at him enough - and shrugged. "My company is a sponsor of the Swiss Nationals," he said, in accented English. A pleasant accent; it started in Mumbai, I knew, studied in London, and then picked up Swiss French lilts. "My boss dragged me to an after-party last year, and I met this trouble-maker. Not -" And he glared at Chris with an eyebrow raised sardonically. "- That he remembers..."

Chris blew him a kiss in response, unapologetic.

"... And then we actually met in a bar in Geneva several months later," he finished, with a shrug for Sala.

She frowned at Chris. "Geneva... I though you live in Lausanne, Christophe?"

Chris pouted dramatically. "I  _commute_ for this one, ma cheri. It's terrible, I'm going to have to invest in a car."

"I thought your rail system runs just as, if not more, punctually than mine," Yuri piped up, amused, leaning his head back as my hand played with his hair absentmindedly.

"Yes, but you have bullet trains and admittedly they are  _very_ nice," Chris winked, pretending to be a snob. "But I'm not the biggest fan of public transport." Then he glanced at Malik, smiled instantly, and forgot to pretend for a moment.  _Yes, I was a fan_. Then he took his boyfriend's hand and teased him. "The things I endure for you..."

Malik snorted. " _I'm_ the one that commutes,  _you_ prefer to avoid visiting in case your family spots you in town.  _Not that they ever do_."

Chris had the good grace to look sheepish. I remembered, with great fondness, Chris messaging me whilst we were in Moscow, telling me about a guy he had met shortly after Yuri and I got married. Things were going well, if only a few months later they were both there in Canada.

(Things did go well. At the time of writing, Chris now commutes to work from Geneva. With a car. They have kittens too. And the sex, I'm told, is still sensational.)

Across the table... I watched, rather than listened, as Sala explained to Malik that she and Emil just knew each other through skating, as though somehow the story wasn't particularly interesting. Obviously I didn't expect her to say she'd been interested in someone else and then caved to Emil's persistence. But she could have said that she knew Emil better than most other skaters through her brother, who was on his way from Naples to watch her skate in the Women's GP Final, and that at another banquet she and Emil got to dance together and she finally realised how great a guy he was, how much fun they genuinely had, and went from there.

Emil also could have pitched in, and said that she was beautiful and he'd spent quite a while trying to get her attention around her bonkers brother, but he didn't do that either. The normally affable and charming Czech was quiet, except when anyone talked to him about anything else.

Before I even thought about what I was doing I leant across and kissed Yuri on the cheek, stealing his attention from Guang Hong's description of training with his coach for a moment, and after returning it he took my hand as he turned back to listen, smiling as his cheeks pinked.

Directly opposite me a different story was unfolding. Otabek was listening to Yurio and Minami talk about the rinks in Hakata and Hasetsu, but his hand was on the table, inches from Mila's, and I was absolutely certain he'd placed it there deliberately, testing perhaps. Mila likewise was listening to Sala, who had moved on to how she had gotten into skating in the first place (her mother, who took Sala and Michele to a rink in Milan on holiday when they were children, and the two loved every second on the ice. Sala finally looked animated, relating this tale, even Emil was smiling at his girlfriend looking so enthusiastic). Yet, in the span of a single minute, I saw both Otabek and Mila glance at the other multiple times, missing each other doing so, both looking for an opening.

_It's just a bit of fun. It's just sex, Victor. We can't all be like you and Yuri._

Well... why not? Did you all think that it was easy? Not just actually getting together but staying together?... Baka. Baka, the four of you.

I looked further around the table, and felt a little less annoyed at my friends' efforts to make themselves unhappy. Phichit, as far as I knew, had his girlfriend who he was looking forward to seeing again when she came back from Australia. Minami, I knew through Yuri, had a long-term university girlfriend that he spoke very little of because when he did he just got a starry-eyed look and ran out of words. I didn't know about Guang Hong, but he looked ecstatic being with his skating friends again, and Yurio... well, was Yurio. He looked happy that his best friend was there, that they were going to be skating soon. Then there was Chris, who had finally found someone he wanted to make an effort for, who I knew he only saw on weekends and messaged and called every single weekday.

And then there was Yuri and I.

After the mains, everyone drawing the line at dessert (I was so tempted to order tiramisu. For _everyone_. Just to screw with them. And for myself, to actually eat, obviously) Yuri turned to me, gestured for me to come close, and I leant in so he could whisper into my ear. "Phichit wants to go out after dinner... do you want to? I don't mind."

I glanced at the two glasses I was utilising; my prosecco flute, and a tumbler of water. Of the two, the prosecco was barely touched, despite being quite a good one and I was enjoying sipping it, but I'd been refilling the water glass through the evening. Hmm... "Ask me again after everyone decides on coffee and dessert, but probably not," I admitted. "If you want to go though..."

Yuri shook his head. "No... I'd have to catch up with them anyway," and we both smiled as Phichit turned to try and get the attention of a waitress or waiter, the empty bottle of prosecco in his hand. "Don't let Chris get wind of it just yet though, or he'll try and drag us into -"

"Chris!" Phichit exclaimed, his cheeks red, and the Swiss looked up. "We're going out tonight! Coming?"

Yuri's head dropped into my shoulder with a defeated groan. I grinned and reached for my water. At least Phichit was guaranteed to have company.

And at least the party hadn't been crashed this time.

* * *

* * *

I was vaguely amused that, of a table of twelve, the only ones who didn't go out that night were not skating the following morning.

As Yurio's coach, I should probably have told him to come back with Victor and I. As a favour to  _all of their coaches_ , I should have told  _all of them_ to call it a night, or advise a curfew or... or something. Except they were having fun. And none of us were children, they could all decide for themselves by then what was advisable.

(Though apparently not. I did tell them all that if they puked during practice however I wasn't going to any responsibility in the slightest.)

So Victor and I put everyone into taxis to take them all downtown, ignoring their protestations - Victor whispered something into Chris' ear, which made him laugh and shut him up - and then we walked back together. It wasn't far, though...

It was  _really cold_... I clung to Victor's side, wishing my coat was thicker.

"What did you tell Chris?" I asked curiously.

Victor grinned. "'Honeymoon period'."

Eh? ... Oh...  _Victor_... He giggled as I pinched him vengefully, and we both nearly swerved into a lamppost as he tried to dodge.

We walked past someone - a student, bundled up with a UBC hoodie as the final layer - and... they didn't bat an eye at Victor and I arm-in-arm. Nor did the next person, a middle-aged man walking his dog, a spaniel. Nor a whole group of men in suits, talking about office politics with laughs, heading to a bar. No,  _one_ of them did. He looked at Victor's protective arm round my shoulders... and smiled, and carried on past.

Huh. My thumb found the band on my ring finger, rubbed it soothingly. It could stay there this time. I... I was glad. Victor pressed a kiss into my hair when we were alone again, and I sighed contentedly. The worry that is always in the back of my mind, that had been at the forefront in Moscow, blinked in confusion... did it not need to be there at all? Feeling hard done by, the anxiety scuttled off, and I wasn't at all sorry to see it go.

I looked up, and caught a kiss on my forehead, tightened my arm around Victor's waist. I remembered...

I remembered coming home from the Chugoku, Shikoku and Kyushu Championship, late from the press conference for the theme presentation. That feels _so long ago_ now... Victor and Makkachin picked me up at the station, and I blushed hard at the sight of them, remembering my words that had just tumbled out of my mouth for all of the viewers and journalists to see.  _God, that was embarrassing..._  even now I can't believe I said all of that, and then even smiled like an idiot after, waving to the cameras. It hit hard once I left that conference room what I'd just done... but as it turned out everyone had done me a kindness, and given Victor only the roughest translation possible. 'He says he's grateful for you being his coach' is what Mari-neechan told him, I think. But then Victor spent the next few days carefully translating for himself exactly what I said... eh...

But at the station he didn't know, and he was just proud and pleased to see me, and fussed over me affectionately, stealing opportunities to be tactile. "Your lips are still chapped, Yuri, you need to put lip balm on more often. I know! I'll sneak it into all of your pockets! I'm guessing you don't want me putting it on for you all the time," and he winked, making me burn bright red, and I blushed all the way back to my parents', trying not to remember the feeling of his finger running so smoothly over my lips, his hand on my cheek, how tightly he hugged me, and shook me and nuzzled me after the Free Skate.

What a mess that was. Anyway...

But right then as he walked me home he didn't touch me at all, just walked at my side, or skipped ahead to turn back and tease me, full of laughter. Then when we got home he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me with the triplets and Yuuko-chan to be teased over my presentation, in Japanese so Victor wouldn't understand. Nishigori ruffled my hair and laughed. "Ai, huh?" Then he nodded, and said nothing more. I blushed and focused on stroking Makkachin's head on my lap.

Then Victor came out with the largest bowl of katsudon I've ever seen - in a normal sized bowl, but piled far higher than normal - and... genuinely congratulated me on winning the Championship. I... I was surprised. I didn't think that Victor, even though he'd been telling the reporters that I was just going to take it easy because it was only a small competition in the scheme of things, would have taken it so seriously after. I was touched... and ravenous...

... For more than food. It... it felt like I had already been rewarded, by his open arms, his hug, even as I was limp and awkward, my nose stuffed with tissue to stem the blood.

Oka-san came out, and smiled as she saw me enjoying my food, my chopsticks in near constant motion. Then she complimented Victor's cooking, making even Victor blush. I nearly choked -  _he made it?!_ \- and then I polished off the whole thing.

Which was a... well, a mistake. I woke later, my stomach churning and heavy as lead, and I nearly crawled to the bathroom just in time before my belly, long used to a far lower calorie count all in one go, aborted any further attempt to digest all the deep fried pork and rice and sauce. After, I laid on the cold bathroom floor, feeling sorry for myself and guilty for heaving up and ruining Victor's efforts, and glad that no one was up to -

"Yuri?"

I groaned pitifully before I could stop myself. Too late to pretend I wasn't there.

"Are you alright?"

"Īe..." I groaned again, at myself. I didn't want Victor, of all people, to see me like that. Which... any other time, I might have chastised myself, because by then I'd seen him sick with heatstroke, seen what a baby he was when he got a cold. If it was from anything else, I would have told myself it was only fair, my turn as it were. But... I'd ruined his katsudon.

There was a pause on the other side, and I smiled briefly as I realised he was trying to remember if that meant yes or no. By then I knew from his silences when he was thinking deeply, even when I couldn't see him. "Yuri, can I come in?"

"... Īe..." I said reluctantly. "Watashi... I... I'll be out in... in a second..." My stomach rumbled, as if to remind me how unlikely that was.

On the other side of the door, I heard a shuffle, the creak of the floorboards. When Victor spoke again, his voice was lower, sat on the floor. "I'm sorry, Yuri."

"... Huh...?" I tried to sit up, worried. I could see where this was going already.

"It was my first time making katsudon," Victor said quietly. "I'm sorry I messed it up. I... I heard you..." He sighed and, panicked, I reached out to the door, as though somehow I could reach him through the wood. He'd heard me puke, I realised he meant.

"It's not your fault!" I cried out, and slumped against the door as the words aggravated my stomach. "It... it wasn't the food, I just... I... today was a bit... nerve-racking, and..." I cringed, and told the truth. "I ate too much too fast. Gomen, Victor. It was my fault."

There was a pause, and then I heard Victor give a relieved chuckle. "It... it has been a while since you had it. Too much broccoli lately."

I smiled weakly, glad that he was teasing at least. "Thank you for making it for me. It was really good. I..." I blushed, and gave him the highest culinary compliment I could bestow. "I thought Oka-san made it, I didn't realise you had until she said."

There was silence. Then, his voice shaky, I could hear his smile over his pronounciation. "Hontōni?!"

I chuckled in return, sincere. "Really."

"Ureshī!"

I chuckled again. The Japanese still sounded strange on his Russian tongue, but they were always his best mimic of one of us; of me, or Mari-neechan or my parents' or Minako-sensei. I liked it when he did that, when he deliberately switched out these little phrases; it made me feel like he really was listening to everything we said to him, that he really did like being here. That, and he was showing off.

I frowned. "Victor... did... did you need the bathroom?" I had no idea how long I had been in there.

"No. I was messaging Chris, and I saw you stumble past. I was worried."

Oh. "Ano... chottomatte..."

I brushed my teeth to get the acid taste out of my mouth, gargled mouthwash, splashed water on my face and winced at the palor in my reflection. Then I reluctantly unlocked the door, and -

Victor seized me into a hug. I started, paranoid that I... well, that I would smell bad from being sick but as quickly as he hugged me Victor released me, frowning uncomfortably. "I'm sorry! Your stomach must still hurt, I..." He trailed off and... smiled distractedly. I blinked and realised I was frozen in place, shocked, wide eyed and my hands were up around my chest nervously. I was trying really hard not to ogle his naked chest, or how his pyjama pants sat so low on his hips. Victor put his hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let's put you back to bed. Easy day tomorrow."

I followed behind him through the narrow halls, and banged into him as he suddenly stopped outside our rooms. "V-Victor...?"

"Your... err... your bed's been taken."

"Eh?"

I peered round him, squinting without my glasses, and pulled a face. Not tonight, Makkachin. The poodle had slumped in such a fashion that he had taken up the whole of the middle of the bed, leaving me with a choice of either forcibly moving him, or nearly falling out of my own bed, or... or...

Makkachin took matters into his own hands and went with 'or'. By farting so loudly and so disgustingly Victor blushed  _hard_. There was a silence following, then Makkachin wagged his tail.

We couldn't help it. We both just burst into fits of laughter.

"Ma... Makkachin, you disgusting old thing!" Victor laughed, and then he stepped forward and closed my door, leaving it ajar just enough so Makkachin could get out if he needed. "I'm so sorry, Yuri!"

I clutched my stomach -  _ittai_ \- and wiped a tear out of my eye. Then I realised I had nowhere to sleep; there was no way I was going to be joining Makkachin after _that_. I stopped laughing, and tried not to look through the open doors to Victor's room. To his bed. "... Ano... Victor... can... can I...?"

He took mercy on me and was already nodding, and led the way in. He tugged the duvet down on the mostly undisturbed side of the bed, like it was no big deal, and got back in himself. I stared after him, at the unblemished, perfect skin over his back, uncertain... I remembered the summer, of putting aloe vera on his red skin there (more times than he cares to admit), of falling asleep for a second time next to him, and panicking in the morning because I hadn't meant to. It occurred to me that this time, this third time... I asked to be there. I stepped forward.

Victor fussed with the duvet over both of us, tucking it in here and there, to... I don't know, preserve modesty? I think mostly so he had something to do. "Are you... are you feeling any better?"

He still looked so uncomfortable, so sheepish. I smiled. I wasn't used to seeing him as anything other than confident, certain. "A bit... thank you."

"Do you need anything?" I shook my head. "Are you sure? I can get you something to eat, or water, or -"

"Victor?"

He stilled, watched my hand shake at my chin. "H-Hmm?"

"Can..." My stomach clenched again, but with nerves. "Can I..." My voice failed me, and I whispered the rest so quietly I barely heard myself. "Can I h-hug you?"

His hug earlier, outside of the bathroom, had been so quick, it... it... it wasn't enough.

Victor gave me a strange smile, like it should have been bigger but he was reining it back as best he could. "Of course." And after an awkward moment he raised his arm off the bed in invite.

Oh god... _why had I said that_...? Blushing, unable to look at him, I shuffled forward, just my torso, and... I caught a glimpse of the surprise on his face when I buried my head first into his collarbone, under his chin, and my arm followed around his waist under the duvet, my other tucked up awkwardly between us, not deliberately but because I didn't know where else I could put it. I was about to panic and scarper as I realised that people don't normally asked for hugs and then burrow their faces against someone's bare chest - his skin felt warm against my nose and forehead, and he smelt nice, clean and...  _him_ \- and then he sighed and wrapped me up, shuffling to free the arm he was lying on and wrapping both around me, over the duvet, and my eyes fluttered shut as his fingers started stroking my hair, his other hand rubbing my back soothingly, and he tucked his head against the top of mine, so his cheek was against my scalp.

It was... nice. Really nice. Just nice, too. I mean... for a wonderful moment, all that was wrong with the world wasn't.

Victor sighed, contentedly. " _Oh, moya lyubov'_..."

"... Huh?"

What did that mean? He said nothing, and it wouldn't be until we lived in St Petersburg, months later, that I learnt what that meant. But even then, not knowing, it sounded nice too. It certainly didn't sound bad, his tone, the way he rubbed his cheek against my hair and drew circles on my back.

Slowly, my anxiety begged my attention.  _What are you doing?! That's not a hug! You're just..._ holding _him... How do you know if it's okay to do that, you shouldn't press liberties, you shouldn't take more than you deserve from him, you -_

Victor shushed gently, and I started, realised that he could practically read my thoughts in my tension, in my shivers. His hands suddenly halted, lifted up a little. "Yuri... do you want to... to stop?"

 _No!_ A startled noise popped out of me. No, I didn't. I was about to tighten my grip on his back, but... that didn't seem... proper... so I gripped the duvet instead, kept my arm round him, and pressed my forehead into his skin. "N-no..."

Slowly his hands returned to where they had been, and I whimpered with relief, with nervousness. I...

I felt so inadequate.

"Victor... I... I'm s-sorry..."

His hold on me tightened and his chin dipped so his lips were at my hairline. I shivered when he spoke. "Sorry for what?"

 _I'm sorry that I don't know how to... how to be... I'm sorry I'm so..._ " _I'm sorry I don't know what to do_." Tears threatened as I realised I'd said that aloud. I was so scared... scared of disappointing Victor, in so many ways. I was scared that he would give up on me, on my skating, on... on  _me_. I was scared but I didn't know how to be what he needed, didn't know  _what_ he needed. I certainly didn't know how to be what he _wanted_. I was scared that... he didn't want anything anyway, that I was worrying for nothing, that he was just my coach, my friend, not... not... I didn't even know what the 'not' was.

All I knew was that every time Victor smiled at me, I felt like I was beautiful too. Like I was extraordinary. I didn't want that feeling to be an illusion. And... I hoped that... I wanted to _know_ how to make him feel like that too.

"Yuri, it's okay."

_No, it isn't, I'm twenty-three years old and I don't even know how to kiss you!_

" _Yuri_."

His hand was gone from my back, trying to reach in between us to - oh. I was shaking.

"Really, Yuri," Victor said softly. I screwed up my eyes, wanting to believe him. "Yuri, look at me."

I sniffed and tried my best. I felt so stupid... only a moment ago I had felt wonderful, and my anxiety had gotten the better of me, creeping in like a thief. When I finally looked up at Victor, his face so close, I didn't know what to make of it. He looked... sympathetic. Calm.  _Patient_.

"I really do mean it, Yuri," he whispered, his fingers still stroking my hair. "It's okay." Then he suddenly smiled warmly. "Remember you told me to be myself?" I nodded slowly. Of course I remembered. "Well, I want you to be yourself too."

... Oh...

Victor gently tucked my head back under his chin, and buried his arm under the duvet to rub my back through just my t-shirt. My eyes drifted shut, and I exhaled the breath that had gotten stuck, breathed normally. Just being little bit closer felt so much better.

"It's okay, not knowing," Victor whispered tenderly. "It's okay to be... to be nervous..." And he paused, as if uncertain, questioning whether that was what it was. I nodded ever so slightly. Yes... I was nervous, really nervous. "It's okay to not be ready."

My eyes slammed open, and I sighed defeatedly, my fingers digging into his back after all. I wanted to be ready.  _I really did_. It hurt, not being ready, being scared like this. Victor tightened his hold on me again, almost like he had heard me. Then... I realised he was tense too.  _Victor was nervous too_.

"I want you to be yourself," he said again pointedly. "So when you are... when you are ready... I won't be far. Come find me."

_I want you... when you are ready... come find me..._

It was like... somewhere in my head, in my heart, a tiny silver-haired, aqua-eyed Russian fairy climbed in and took roost, and stubbornly said that that was where it belonged from now on, and all it did was smile at me with that heart-shaped smile whenever I needed it. When I needed it to, it repeated Victor's words to me;  _I want you_. With time, and this is what it does now still, it said...  _I love you_.

But in his bed, the much taller and more substantial Victor held me for a bit longer, then peeled away with a smile, and then teased me by bunching the entire duvet up around me so much that I felt like a snowball, my nose barely visible, and he laughed as I glared at him through the one gap he felt me. Then he reached in and kissed my forehead, and he giggled as the tops of my cheeks blushed. Then he tugged some of the duvet back, turned on to his back, sighed and closed his eyes, tired. I blinked at him, at his softening face, and then reached out and tucked the duvet around him properly too, keeping my nerve together as I caught the corners of his mouth twitch upward, still awake. I shuffled back an inch or so, and went to sleep at his side, exhausted from a very, very long day, feeling... like it really was okay to be there.

When the Cup of China came, I really couldn't tell you what I'd been waiting for, but it was... easier. Everything _before_ , when he leaned on me, held me, even draped himself over me in a drunken mess. The rest... you know,  _the rest_... not going to lie, that was worth being nervous about.

Be nervous about things that matter.

On a public street in Vancouver, I leant up and kissed my husband properly, without being anxious about it at all. It was heaven.

So was the moment when, back in that king-sized bed, Victor moaned my name into my mouth, his body hot beneath mine, his heels digging into my ass to pull me deeper into him as he came over my hand between us, lost in pleasure that only I can give him. Shortly followed by him swallowing his own name from me, his arms round my neck and keening when my hips stuttered desperately as I tried to stretch out that delicious flame of ecstasy in my gut.

* * *

* * *

I look up from the keyboard to find Victor grinning down at me from the study doorway, cup of tea in one hand, like he's enjoying a joke. "Nani?"

"Hungry?"

I blink at him. "No, why -" My stomach rushes to interrupt with a loud complaint. Oh... I hadn't noticed. "... Ē to... what time is it?"

"Three."

"Eh?!"

"You skipped lunch, you were so into writing." He nods to the laptop. "Finished?"

I blush. I... I want to keep going. "No..." I look up at my husband. "Did you want to -?"

He shakes his head and smiles encouragingly. "Keep going. I'll make you something." And he vanishes to the kitchen, humming to himself, and Sobachin, who I noticed was asleep at my feet, gets up and follows hopefully, leaving my feet to get cold.

Well... okay... where was I?

* * *

* * *

I came to to Victor peppering my face with kisses, stole one for my mouth, but he laughed when I was so spent that I could barely move my lips. He kissed me again with enough zeal to make up for me, and then rolled us both on to our sides, and we held each other in the aftermath glow, kissing lazily, touching lazily.

Eventually we got up and went to the bathroom, soaked a flannel and took it in turns to clean up, brushed our teeth, and we both laughed at the state of Victor's hair in the mirror. I brushed it back with my fingers, kissed him properly now that we were both minty and my energy had returned to me. Then we went back to bed, and Victor kissed my cheek, my jaw, down my neck and then settled into my shoulder, cuddling me, our bodies soft and happy and close.

"Are you sleepy?" He asked.

I sighed, and shook my head. "No. Slept too much during the day. You?"

He shook his head too. "Watashi mo." I smiled. His accent had, and has, come such a long way since the stiff way he used to pronounce things. "Want to do something? We can go to the bar downstairs, it might be open still." I shook my head again. "Or a movie?"

"Īe." I shuffled up on the pillow so I could sit up a bit and look at Victor properly. "Talk to me? For the next few days it's all going to be about Yurio, we'll need to focus."

My husband smiled a little nervously. "Talk about what?"

I stroked his hair back behind his ear, so he couldn't hide behind his fringe. "What do you want to do when we go home? It's your birthday coming up, Christmas."

He smiled at the prospect, at the innocent subject. "That's true... I guess we'll be in Russia for the Nationals. Yurio hasn't said anything, but..."

"I know. He doesn't really need to say anything. He'll want to go." My face fell. "He usually went back to his grandfather's after, didn't he? What will he do this year?"

Victor studied my face for a second, and then... "He can stay with us, if you want. I'd like that. Once Nationals are over we'll go home, do Christmas at home together. If  _he_ wants."

I smiled back. "That would be nice, I like the sound of that. But..." And I reached out and tapped the end of his long nose. "That's not really what I asked."

"Hmm?"

"I asked what  _you_ want to do. Not what Yurio wants to do."

Victor's eyes widened and then he had to look away, making my heart drop. "I... I don't know." He leant into my hand as I reached out to palm his cheek. "Gomen, Yuri..."

I frowned and shook my head. "Īe, daijōbu. You don't need to be sorry for that, at all."

"Yuri, I'm going to be thirty one, I should know what I'm doing with my time now," he said harshly of himself.

"... Why?"

"Huh?!" He looked up at me with shock.

"Why does your age matter?" I asked. "You've been competing for a long time, a really long time, you've only just retired."

"I..." He frowned, and ducked his head back on to my chest, avoiding my eyes. "I don't... I don't want to be a burden. I don't want you to feel like you're... carrying me or something..."

I blinked down at him. "Victor." He didn't respond. He should have, so I didn't need to go in so harshly. "I love you, but you really do say some remarkably stupid things sometimes." He jolted, and slowly peeled up to meet my eyes. "You have never been, are not, and never will be a 'burden'." I couldn't help it, I was annoyed. I... I felt like a hypocrite. How many times had I thought I was a burden to him? "Victor, ever since we met you've been supporting my endeavours. You  _still_ are; I couldn't have been Yurio's coach all this time without your advice, without you helping too. Hey," and I bucked my chest up under his chin as he tried to look away again.  _Don't you dare take your eyes off me_. "You're my husband, not a burden. Whatever you want to do - and that includes  _nothing_ , just taking some time off - I'll back you up."

Victor's eyes shimmered, and he slowly nodded. Then he climbed up and kissed me gently, nodded again against my lips. I rubbed my nose against his for a moment, trying not to go cross-eyed from his proximity. "It's okay to do something for just yourself. Whatever it is, if you need my help, you've got it." I stroked his hair. "I've been doing so many things just for me over the years... and you've helped me do them. My turn."

He nodded, and then started chuckling. "You say that like you haven't been backing me up for the last two years, competing again." I chuckled back, shrugging. Being Victor Nikiforov's coach was never a burden. A pain in the ass sometimes, but... the greatest honour I've ever been bestowed. "Time. Time off..." Then Victor started laughing properly. "What's... what's that?"

I started laughing too. It sounded so absurd... we all yearn for it, for a break from hard training or our responsibilities or our jobs, or anything. Yet when we finally have it... we're hopelessly clueless about what to do with it. "I don't know! If you want you can spend as long as you want figuring it out, let me know when you do?" I teased.

Victor tucked himself back into my side, smiling, looking a little lighter. "Time off... this will sound so stupid, I never really thought of... well, not doing anything."

I played with his hair on my chest. "I mean it, you can do, if you want. We... it's not like we have to worry about money or anything. Phichit was telling me he was thinking of taking  _The King and the Skater_ on a world-wide tour."

Victor nodded. It wasn't like he didn't have his own savings. We were very lucky, to be able to not worry about that. He sighed. "I've been getting a lot of requests to coach. Even Yakov has someone in mind, if I'm interested."

I hesitated. "And... are you?"

He shook his head. "No." He grinned up at me. "I'm Katsuki Yuri's coach, always will be. I don't want to take on anyone else. I've been putting off writing back, when we get home I'm going to decline them all properly. I don't mind helping with Yurio, but I'm so glad that I don't need to take the lead. What a disaster that would be."

I laughed. I... well, I didn't disagree.

"Yuri?"

"Hmm?"

Victor turned serious, clasped my hand in his. "If... if you did..." He stopped, and sighed, not knowing how to put what was on his mind. I froze. I knew... I knew. I could see it again, hear Yurio clear as if it were happening again before me.

Back in the shadowy remains of his childhood rink in Moscow, after the Rostelecom Cup, Yurio had looked up at me, determined. "I want to win the Grand Prix Final Gold Medal."

Good, I had thought, and I offered my hand, thinking of how Victor had on the beach, years ago. "Okay," I said, thinking of my beloved husband, who was helping me hold up our boy, in that moment literally. "I'll make you work for it though. I won't let you off easy, then."

Behind Yurio, as he shook my hand, Victor smiled knowingly at me. Then we both stopped, and watched as Yurio took a deep breath, steeling himself to say the next.

"I want to break your world record at the Free Skate," he told me, meaning every word. My hand started in his, but he didn't let go. "If I do..." His hand gripped mine. "If I do... will you come back to skating?"

I... I was shocked. Even Victor looked taken-aback, and then he scrambled to seize the situation as he saw the look on my face. I... I couldn't... "Yurio, I... Yuri... he'll...  _we'll_ think about it... okay? I promise, Yura."

Yurio deflated, disappointed, and let go of my hand. Victor steered us both back to Yakov's apartment, and I had been avoiding thinking about it since.

"Yuri..." Victor's voice dragged me back to the present, and he did his best to smile at me, even though I could see how worried he was. I was tense, painfully tense. "Hey, it's okay, moya lyubov'. It's okay."

I remembered to breathe, realising that I had forgotten to, and sighed, feeling stupid. It was Victor. Victor understood.

"If you  _did_ want to compete again - and I'm not saying that you should or shouldn't - but if you did... I'd back you up too. Whatever you needed. I'd..." And he gave me a hesitant smile, like he wasn't sure if he should say the next. "I'd love to be your coach again, if you wanted to return. But..." And he reached out, stroked down my temple, down my cheek. "It's a big decision, competing again. If you want to, I'm with you all the way. If you _don't_ want to, I'm with you all the way with that too. I know what... what it's like to compete when your heart's not in it, I don't want you to feel like that too, never."

... Victor...

I pressed my forehead against his. "I know. Wakatta." Victor nodded against me, then aligned so our noses pressed together too. I knew that he wanted to ask... "Victor, I... I don't know... I don't know if I want to compete again."

All this time... I had never really needed to say that I didn't want to. Whenever the option was mentioned Victor took one look at the panic on my face, and knew that I wasn't ready, and he never wanted to push me into it. I had  _The King and the Skater_ , and Kenjirou-kun's choreography to... well, distract me really. The thought of going through it all again, of risking my leg again... no.

Now... I really didn't know. The idea didn't fill me with the same horror... but maybe I had just gotten used to it. It certainly didn't translate to any hunger for medals, or even to wow the world with programs. All this time I had been supporting other people's efforts in that; Victor, Kenjirou-kun, Phichit, and now Yurio, Guang Hong too. And doing so... made me feel a sense of pride I had never known before. I had always wanted to be good enough to produce work like this, and... I revelled in the trust that others bestowed on me with my choreography. It... it was more than enough.

Then again... I had yet to truly contemplate what it would mean if Yurio really did break my world record... if he broke  _Yuri On Ice_...

Victor was silent for a moment, and then he pressed a kiss. "That's okay." I smiled with relief. "That's okay, really." He chuckled. "I'm not going to lie, I kind of feel a little relieved."

"Hmm?"

"Neither of us are sure what we want to do, huh?"

I blinked, and then I laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." I felt a little relieved too. We were in the same boat together.

"We can figure it all out together... right?"

I nodded, happy. "Hmm. Right."

Victor hugged me then, and I buried myself into his skin, glowing with comfort received and comfort given.

I still felt wide awake. I also felt... too serious. I wanted to enjoy being in that big bed, able to stretch out to our hearts' content without worrying about falling off the edge of a tiny twin bed or kicking each other or pushing furniture around. I wanted to see Victor smile, to hear his laugh. Instantly, a stupid idea came to my head.

Between the two of us, we say so, so many stupid things.

"Victor?"

"Hmm?" He kissed my cheeks as he pulled away to face me properly.

I bit my lip coyly. His eyes dropped and he smirked. With him distracted, I went in for the kill. "If I do compete..." His smirk started to melt away, his eyes widening, unsure where this was going. "... I think I'll give Ciao Ciao a call..."

"... Huh?"

I fidgeted under him. "Well..." And then I ran out of ways to keep the ruse up without being really mean, and tried not to break my poker face. But as Victor loves to tell me, I don't have a poker face at all. His eyes slowly narrowed.

" _Yu-ri_..."

Shimatta. I was in trouble.

He leant up, glaring at me, and then seized the pillow under my head and pummelled me with it. "Take. That. BACK!"

I burst out laughing. "Gomen-gomen-gomen!"

"Oh no you don't! No 'gomen's from you,  _take that back_!" And he carried on hitting me with the pillow, straddling me. "I want to hear you say 'Victor's the best coach in the world, and I don't need anyone else'! Say it!"

"'Victor's the worst coach I've ever ha-!'"

"OI!"

My hands went up blindly to try and stop the pillow, and suddenly the pillow was gone and my wrists were in his grasp, and he held me down, glaring down at me. " _Mean_."

I stared up at him, the tail end of my laughter still making me grin, and I watched his chest expand with his every breath, admired the irritated blush in his cheeks, the change in his eyes as he realised I was growing hard beneath him. He smirked and ground his hips against me, and my breath caught, wiping my grin away.  _Evil_...

"This is new. Pillow fights turn on Katsuki Yuri," he teased, his thumbs rubbing over my pulse in my wrists.

I shivered under him. "This wasn't a fight. A fight implies I was hitting you back."

Victor huffed with amusement and leant down over me, just out of reach so I couldn't lean up and kiss him. "Insatiable you. What _am_ I going to do with you?" Before I could suggest anything he pouted. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I'm nearly thirty one. I won't be able to keep up," he complained, grinning evilly.

I tried to buck up, and missed his lips as he backed away an inch.  _God damn it, Victor_... "I  _know_. Absolutely  _ancient_ , you are."

" _Why you_ -"

I got my 'punishment'. I was amazed that I could walk the next day. He made me repeat the following before I came: "Victor's the best... the best coach and... and hus-husband... in the w-world... and I'm damn...  _shimatta_... damn lucky to have... to have him... _oh god..._ "

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please also read my newest piece of madness (because three weeks to go before deadlines is exactly when you want to think of another fic...) - Sleeping Beauty, and let me know what you think? :-S


	27. I found you

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

CHAPTER 21

_I found you_

* * *

* * *

Banging.

I wasn't hungover... was I? Why was there banging...?

"Mmph..." Yuri shuffled unhappily in my arms, still naked and warm next to me. "Anata, nani...?"

More banging. Oh, the door. Yuri vanished under the duvet irritably.

"Maybe they'll go away," I mumbled, and tried to burrow under to join Yuri. No such luck; another loud knock on the door, a fist rather than a knuckle rapping. Persistent.  _Annoying_.

"Vic _tor_..." Yuri complained, as though somehow it was my fault we were being disturbed. What time was it even? Three AM? I gave up trying to find my husband and rolled over to my phone, stumbling as I stood.

It was just after seven AM. And -

"Put a robe on," Yuri called out from the mound of cotton that I wasn't welcome in anymore. I nodded sleepily, rubbing my eyes and reached for one from the bathroom and swept it on as I went to the door, just missing the last knock.

A blond Swiss. Looking overly pleased with himself. I glared at my former rival. "You look surprisingly un-hungover..."

"I'm glad to see you haven't lost your touch, Victor-Coachie. What a compliment. I'm positively  _swooning_."

I glared at the definitely not-swooning Christophe at our door. "What do you need, Chris? If you've run out of flavoured lube, condoms or batteries, I'm afraid we can't -"

"- Spare any?" Chris jumped in quickly with a wink. Any other morning perhaps I might have laughed. But I was rather painfully jet lagged. He grinned at me. "I'm actually after you, as a matter of fact." And he pushed past me into our room, toward my mole of a husband, whose head was now sticking out and glaring at the light coming in, squinting without his glasses to see. "Yuri! Malik has abandoned me to my boredom. May I borrow your husband for breakfast? We need a decent catch-up."

"Ano... Chris...?" I think he was still trying to catch up, wake up even.

"Wonderful! Victor, as magnificent as you look right now in just that bathrobe, some clothes would be recommended."

And, because my friend was fluttering his eyelashes at me, I didn't even argue. Chris had far more energy than me to even try that losing battle. "Where's Malik?" I asked as I rummaged through our suitcase to find something to wear.

Chris sat on the edge of the bed, lifting the corner of the duvet to find Yuri's foot, earning himself a gentle kick. "Malik is much like your Yuri here, and likes his beauty sleep. Also like Yuri however it works very well, so I'm not going to complain," and he winked at Yuri's peeping head.

Yuri, long used to Chris being Chris, only blushed a little. I pouted, and dived on to the bed, wrapping my arms around my husband possessively, hammering up the jealous spouse act. " _My_ husband, Chris! Winks off!"

"Victor..." All the same, Yuri smiled and let himself be cuddled.

Oh... I wanted to go back to bed... sleep more... cuddle more...

Chris cleared his throat pointedly, and chucked a shirt at me. "Hurry up, Coach, before they run out of maple syrup."

Yuri peered at Chris curiously. "Maple syrup?"

I pouted genuinely. Food wakes my husband up but not me. "Is that really a thing? I thought that was just... you know, a Canadian stereotype."

Chris chuckled. "Oh no, mon ami, it's a real thing. Or at least, they most certainly had several jugs of it on the buffet table yesterday, and they kept getting topped up."

Yuri looked torn in my arms, making me smile, and then he turned to me and gently pushed himself out of my hold. "Go on, get breakfast together. I'll catch you up later. I'll go wake Yurio in a bit."

Chris laughed again. "Wear body armour."

I laughed too, and took my clothes into the bathroom to make myself decent. I chuckled as I heard Yuri ask whether there were pancakes, and whether they were good, and why on earth had Chris not tried them and gone for muesli. Feeling cleaner and dressed, I came out and gave Chris a shove towards the door, gave Yuri a kiss, and yawned pointedly at my friend as we got into the elevator. "You could have told me you wanted to get breakfast together last night, you know."

Chris shrugged. "I thought I was going to be more jet lagged and hungover this morning. Not so."

"Hmm. You do look surprisingly okay this morning. What time did you guys get back?"

Chris laughed. "My delectable boyfriend -" He said the word with relish, like he was still enjoying saying it, the word new on his tongue. It made me smile. "- tempted me to an early retreat. I managed to one-up Cinderella; I got back at midnight,  _with_ my Prince Charming, and both my shoes even." He grinned at me. "And you, mon cheri? How'd the 'honeymoon period' treat you last night?"

I grinned in answer.

"God, you look  _disgustingly_ happy."

I laughed. "So do you, mon ami. Should I be asking you the same?"

" _Victor_. You know I don't kiss and tell." Do I know that? No, no I don't think I do. "I'm amazed I can _walk_ this morning, oh mon dieu..." And he made some hand gestures. Oh... impressive.

The dining hall was surprisingly busier than I had expected. There were several large groups clustered across the large room, each with a quiet hum of whispered conversations - I always tend to notice that people talk like this at breakfast, but lunch gets louder, and dinner louder still, dependent on the atmosphere of the place - and waiters and waitresses were coming and going efficiently serving coffee. There was a separate table for juices, with a large basket with tea selections. And, low and behold, no less than four jugs of maple syrup on the go, with a fifth literally on one of the tables and nearly empty. To top it all off, as Chris and I sat down at our own table, someone came out of the doors to the kitchen with a tray of bacon to switch over the empty at the cooked foods buffet.

Which presented a dilemma. I turned to Chris. "Sweet or savoury?"

He frowned at me. "Pardon?"

"I don't believe in maple syrup on bacon. I've tried it... no. So it's either I get bacon, or I get maple syrup. Which one?"

He blinked at me like I was an idiot. "Well... which would you prefer...?"

"I don't know, I'm asking you."

"Why are you asking me, it's your stomach!"

"Chris!"

He laughed. "Oh, Victor mon cheri, I've forgotten how extra you are. Let's get both."

"But -"

"It's a  _buffet_ , Victor, literally get a plate of both." And he got up, and did exactly that. So much for diets.

So over a table laden with bowls of fresh blueberries and yogurt, plates of bacon, scrambled eggs and sausage, and separate plates of pancakes smothered with maple syrup,  _each_ , Chris and I caught up. "So is it really alright, commuting to see each other?" I asked him. "You joked about it last night, but... you look happy." I peered over the top of my glass of orange juice to see Chris' expression, my first indicator of whether I was right or not.

I was. He smiled easily. "It's alright. It was a bit odd at first - no booty calls, no spontaneous picking-you-up-after-work-for-dinner, but... I don't think we've spent a weekend apart yet, except for when I've had to go away for the IOC. When I go to see him I've just gotten into the habit of taking a bag with me on the Friday, then I get the train back on the Monday, and he does the same when he comes to me, but with his car."

I grinned as I put my glass down, picked up my fork. "It sounds stranger hearing you talking about Mondays and Fridays... what are those?"

"They're  _shit_ , my friend, is what they are, they're  _shit_."

I laughed. "Christophe Giacometti, doing nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday... I literally can't picture you working in an office, at a _desk_. My imagination fails me."

He shrugged. "I don't really work like that, Victor. I have an office that's full of boards for projects, and a laptop to send tons of emails and a phone to make calls. It's a bit more mobile than that, and it's all talking to people." He told me about various projects for inclusivity awareness that he's working on with particular national Olympic committees across the world. He caught me up on the latest regarding the British transgender skater, Adam Calpern, that he wants to sponsor to the next Winter Olympics. He gave me the gossip about the nominees for the 2022 Winter Olympics, some of which he probably shouldn't tell me and so I'm definitely not going to tell you. It's all a lot more ridiculous than such a prestigious arrangement should be; a lot of drama and intrigue.

Then I got bored of hearing about office battles between people I don't know. "Chris. Shush about work. Go back to The Boy, talk to me about the boy."

Chris laughed. "What do you want to know?" He shrugged. "I told you tons on the phone."

"You most certainly did not tell me how  _hot_  Malik is."

"I most certainly  _did_."

"Not  _that_ hot though."

"Victor, I overspent my data allowance once in order to FaceTime you about how hot he was."

"... Oh. Well, that was a waste, because clearly you didn't explain very well!"

We both giggled over our food - too much food, and too much talking - and Chris lifted a napkin to his lips to wipe away syrup. "Never mind about me for a bit, tell me about... married life. How is it, really?"

I smiled, thinking of Yuri, sweaty and arching beneath me last night... and then remembered the last couple of weeks since Rostelecom. I told him, in a low voice so no one would overhear - maybe that's what breakfast conversations actually are, just full of secrets and that's why it's always quieter in breakfast halls. He kept quiet, listening carefully, making more progress than I through the foods in front of us. I told him about how narrowly Yurio managed to qualify, and our intervention at his old rink, and how he had progressed since. I told Chris about...

About the quad axel. About how Yuri really fell over two years ago. About how he hadn't said anything, all this time.

"... Merde..."

I lifted my coffee cup to my lips, just to do something. Over the rim, I could see Chris' fallen face. He frowned at me. "Are... are you both okay though? You seemed it, last night at dinner."

I nodded. "Yeah, we're... we're alright. We talked, a lot. It... I never really realised that his injury messed me up too, that much. I've had dreams before but... I just thought it was bad memory, I guess. I... I was scared I was going to lose him then, that we wouldn't have a reason to stay together when he retired... so... I'm glad now, in a way, that I know everything, but..." I trailed off, not knowing what I wanted to say or even how to say it if I did.

"But it still hurts that he kept it from you?" Chris supplied, shrewdly.

I paused, and then nodded. "Yeah... it's... I don't know, Chris. At least... at least it's not...  _worse_ , I guess. It's not... he hasn't cheated on me or anything like that, so..." I shrugged.

It seemed strange, talking about this kind of thing with Chris. Not the talking, we had been friends for a long time, for all the dips and awkward phases. And whilst some conversations we steered clear of (competing, primarily) our love lives, or lack there of, and our sex lives, of which there was not a lack for the most part, were  _mostly_ what we did talk about. We had been on the pull together, had been on holiday together, had lamented over people not calling us, giggled over those that did call us, laughed at hickeys and scratches and each other's taste in men and women, but... we had never both been in relationships, particularly not ones we wanted to last. Flings, of course, but...

We were growing up, it seemed. I had my Yuri, and Chris had Malik, was already serious about making it work. We had people we wanted to protect, hold on to, keep. That's a very different subject matter to how to dump someone who had gotten too clingy or how drunk we'd gotten and all the various other things that didn't really matter and had barely any consequence.

"You know..." Chris paused, considering his words carefully. Our advice now mattered more too, had consequence if we followed it and it was bad. "I never like using relatives to forgive something. If something's crap, it's crap. Just because it's less crap than it could have been, well... that doesn't really matter."

I blinked, shocked. He... well, he was right.

Chris smiled gently over his coffee. "I imagine Yuri must have felt terrible about it..."

I nodded. "Yeah... yeah, he does. I... I do too. This only came about because he wanted to surprise m-"

Chris leant over quickly, put his hand on mine on my cup. " _Don't_ say it was your fault." He leant back again. "Yuri probably told you that already, right?" I flinched, but nodded. "Well, as he's not here, I'll tell you that too for him. It's no one's fault for his fall, Victor. These things happen, regardless of what he was attempting. Everything else after... well... I imagine Yuri already knows that he should have told you from the beginning, about everything, right?" I nodded again. It was his turn to shrug. "Yuri loves you, Victor. He loves _you_ , not the... not the idol he'd worshipped and was crushing on since adolescence, which is even more incredible, he loves  _you as you_. But it's not like you'll both be perfect all the time, you will both screw up sometime. You know you haven't been perfect for him, that you've kept things from him too, like... like begging Yurio to beat him at the Final so he wouldn't retire."

I blushed, feeling guilty. I... I did do that. Chris was right... we hadn't always done right, no matter how much we had wanted to.

"That's when relatives matter; you make sure that you only screw up with the small things and not the big things," Chris continued sagely. "The small things you... well, be honest about if and when they hurt, and then move forward, past them. Keeping this from you..." Chris paused, frowning, thinking. "Well, it's not a small thing, but it's not the biggest thing either, perhaps. I don't know, that's up to you." He shrugged again, then chuckled at himself. "So says the one in a two-month relationship." I smiled at his self-deprecation, appreciating his humility. This is what I've always like about Chris; he's one of the most grounded people I know. "How do you feel about it now?"

I paused, thinking. How did I feel about it all...? "Relieved..."

Chris cocked his head, not expecting that. "Relieved?"

"Hmm. That... that it's all over - well, not over, but... that he's not keeping it from me anymore, I guess." I frowned. "Is that... is that normal? I was angry at first, that he was putting himself at risk by practicing the jump, and then... stung that he had kept it from me for so long, but... now... now I feel like we can be more honest about things with each other with other things, like we understand each other even better than before."

Chris smiled at that. "That sounds nice. I'm glad, Victor." He stabbed a bite of pancake with his fork, but paused. "I do get it, why he never said anything. It's Katsuki Yuri, I get that he wanted to impress you, that he just wanted to lick his wounds after it didn't work and never admit it. And I do understand that... it must have been terrible, when you had to take him to hospital. We've both been lucky, we've had sprains and twisted ankles and this and that, but never anything that put either of us out of commission that badly. I remember when the news came, that he was retiring, and thinking... God, what a waste. After he had skated so beautifully that season, like it was barely the beginning of what he could do. He deserved that Gold at Worlds that year."

We both fell to silence, not eating. Slowly, Chris put his fork down again, the pancake abandoned. "Victor. Is he -"

"Ohaiyo."

I looked up, and instantly smiled at the sight of my Yuri at my side. He smiled too, his glasses back on, hair brushed, in his Katsuki-Nikiforov jacket, and leant down and kissed me. "Ohaiyo," I returned. I looked down at the table and laughed; there wasn't anywhere for Yuri to sit and join us, unless he wanted our leftovers. "We can -"

"Īe, daijōbu, Phichit, Minami-kun and Guang Hong are here too, I'll go and eat with them." He gestured behind me, and I turned and smiled as the skaters waved.

"Where's Yurio...? Ah." I spotted him at the buffet with Otabek, the blond exclaiming loudly the madness of the Canadians to put sugary gunk over bacon, even as his friend did exactly that. "How is our boy this morning?"

Yuri pulled a face. "He's... alright. I think they all got back quite late, but he's not that hungover. He's told me already that he and Otabek have plans for after practice today though, and that we are definitely not invited."

I chuckled. "Fair enough."

Yuri leant down again, kissed me again, lingering ever so slightly. "Hmm... you taste sweet..."

I grinned. "Don't I always?"

Chris dropped his face into his hand and sighed. Yuri shook his head, chuckling. Then he giggled outright at the sight of all our plates. "Was it just you two this whole time?"

"This one apparently couldn't decide between savoury or sweet," Chris said, pointing to me. I beamed proudly.

"We won't need lunch at this rate," Yuri commented, and then laughed as I looked aghast at him. Of course we'd still need lunch, don't be so silly. "Well, bon appetit." And he went and joined the others, squeezing my shoulder as he went. I watched his retreating back for a moment, glad to see him be welcomed back by his friends, and then returned to mine.

To find Chris looking at me oddly. "What?"

He just chuckled. "I hope that I'll be just as gone as you are too."

He was. Months later, Chris gushed over FaceTime to me about Marik agreeing to look for a place together, even more when they got the cats. That was nice, actually, knowing that he was happy, exactly as he had wanted to be, not something that just happened.

* * *

* * *

"Mr Katsuki, how do you feel going into the Final after -"

"Victor, tell us about -"

"Will Yuri Plisetski be -"

"Katsuki-kun, when's your next viral video?"

I looked up, recognising that voice, and genuinely smiled at the sight of - "Morooka-kun!"

We both smiled at the sight of each other, shook hands the Western way, ignoring the other journalists, their time now up. I fell into my home-tongue like unbuttoning one's jeans after a heavy meal. "How are you?"

Morooka-kun laughed gamely as he shook Victor's hand too. "Katsuki-kun, aren't I the one who is meant to be asking the questions?" He grinned. "I am well." He ran his eyes over me quickly and teased me. "You look well too. Have you and Plisetski switched places?"

I gave him a look, and he chuckled.

Since my retirement, Morooka Hisashi did something I had never expected of a journalist; he earned my trust. After I returned to Hasetsu, after I had announced I wouldn't skate competitively again and that Victor was going to return and train in St Petersburg for a while before returning to Ice Castle for the season, Morooka-kun paid me an unexpected visit. Not unexpected in that his presence surprised me particularly, given that he was a self-described fan, but... he came alone, without a camera. No notebook. Never recorded anything. He paid for boarding at the onsen for a night, treated my family with deference and thanked them for their hospitality, and...

Morooka-kun told me then, over katsudon, that he had guessed that I had anxiety, from the cryptic notes that Celestino used to describe my 'stage-fright', and had guessed this  _years_ ago when I was a Junior competitor. Yet he has never published anything beyond Ciao Ciao's own quotes, never alluded to it. He told me that he always knew that one day I would win gold, and then stated his evidence for it in some of my earliest programs, stunning me. No mere fan, nor a well-researched sports reporter, Morooka-kun.

I had always thought that his encouragements were more... commercially motivated. I thought he thought I made good TV, good reporting, good competing. When he came to Hasetsu, and told me sincerely that he hoped that I would compete again one day, when I was ready, I... I believed him. He said that he looked forward to tracking my career in whatever I turned my head to next - I had yet to decide to help Kenjirou-kun then - even if it wasn't on the payroll of Asahi TV. When I did take on Kenjirou-kun, Morooka-kun was beside himself with excitement, and returned to interview me as though I was Kenjirou-kun's coach. We talked candidly about Kenjirou-kun's realistic chances on the international stage and at the Japanese Nationals - off the record - but I told him, on the record, to refer to Odagaki-san. He never published anything we talked about whilst we were off record.

He, like Kenjirou-kun, calls my 3.0 GOE triple Axel from  _Eros_ 'The Katsuki' (off the record). Ē to... I don't think they really can... heh...

But since then, Morooka-kun has enjoyed better access, to a degree. No other journalist has ever respected my boundaries, so I barely talk more than I have to to them. Morooka-kun however... at  _Onsen on Ice 2_ , I told him I was nervous about performing with a laugh, and he cheered me on. In Hiroshima, I told him how we came up with  _Who You Really Are_ , allowed him to print it, and he quoted me verbatim instead of twisting my words. In Moscow, after the Free Program, he came up to me, alone, and offered only support, never asked for a quote, used only Victor's stale words at the conference.

I'm not naive; Morooka-kun has a job to do. But he figured out years ago that if he wanted to be able to do his job with me, this is the only way to. Others haven't figured that out.

He asked once for access to Yurio, and when Yurio made it very clear that he wasn't interested Morooka-kun never asked again. That's not out of respect for me, though it is as well, but... well, best of luck getting Yurio to talk to journalists. He doesn't. He glares, and walks off. Yakov always spoke for Yurio, though I think that was more reinforced by Yakov out of fear of what Yurio would say... Victor and I said from the beginning that Yurio could say as much and as little as he liked, just be careful of alienating his sponsors.

So he still says nothing. Wise boy.

Speaking of, Yurio stood like a silent sentinel at my side, letting Victor and I (mostly Victor, he's better at it) do the talking, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed at Morooka-kun... to the rest of the world, distrustfully would be the adjective. I know the variances of Yuri's glares now; it was a lesser degree of distrust. Still a journalist, his coach's favourite however. An indefinite 'I told you so' postponed.

In fairness, he was a little sleep deprived. I too had to bang on his door to get him out of bed - he answered the door almost literally growling like a tiger - and he told me that he, Otabek and Mila got back at about two AM. He rolled their eyes at their names, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Huh... were there positive developments? They didn't eat breakfast together, or arrive together - Otabek sat and ate with Yurio, and Mila arrived a few minutes later (she was not in his room. Or at least, when Yurio and I went to Otabek's room to get him, she wasn't there) and ate with Sala and Emil (who looked less happy) and the two kept sending smiles at each other across the room. That was kind of cute. Cuter than Emil and Sala eating in silence anyway...

Yurio was also eager to skate and get practice over and done with - "Otabek and I are going to a cat cafe. You and Victor are  _not_ coming (... okay...)" - and wanted to lace up already.

"There's a rumour going round..." Morooka-kun warned me. I looked across at him, taking my eyes off Yurio stretching with Victor. "That you're coming back next season..." And he looked at me shrewdly, the question silent. _Is it true?_

I frowned. "Who's saying that?"

He shrugged. "A few people. No one's reporting on it yet - not enough confirmation, and you have good friends who wisely say 'no comment' instead of blabbing and speculating - but..." And he smiled, genuinely, wistfully perhaps. "It's the exhibition skate, that you did for  _Onsen on Ice 2_ and the NHK. People are commenting that you're clearly still competition-ready, still fit enough for it. You can't blame them for... well, hoping."

I smiled at that. I guess I didn't blame  _him_ for hoping... or Yurio... or... Victor... "Gomen. 'No comment'."

Morooka-kun grinned. "Okay." Then he turned to Yurio, gave a light bow. "Plisetski-kun, davai! Good luck!"

Victor gave Yurio a nudge. "Oh... err... arigatōgozaimashita. Oi!" And he whacked Victor back, making my husband chuckle.

Then we sent him out on to the ice with the others - Yurio flatly ignored JJ's presence entirely, and the Canadian wisely didn't show any signs of noticing (or maybe he didn't actually notice... I'm not sure, to be honest) - with instructions to warm up into his choreography section elements before coming back to Victor and I to go over jumps and his step-sequence. Whilst Yurio warmed up Victor told me about his idea to start choreographing again, which... oh I was so glad to hear! I could picture it immediately, of him using our ballet studio and Ice Castle to design programs, to choreograph anything he wanted. No pressure, I knew that he would only take commissions that he wanted, would do everything on his terms; the compromise of not doing nothing, but not under the weight of doing something. I liked that he prioritised his knees over it, would take things as they came... I liked our kiss, my way of telling him I was proud of him, that I loved him... until Yurio interrupted, of course.

Eh...

After practice - which went well; Yurio landed all of his jumps, including just a triple Axel, as we didn't want to complicate the competition by throwing in the quad early - all of us went our separate ways. Phichit adopted Kenjirou-kun for me, along with Guang Hong and Leo, and the four of them went off to check out the Museum of Anthropology together on the edge of the University of British Columbia campus. I caught a glimpse of Otabek talking quietly to Mila outside of the locker rooms before heading off with Yurio, and the Russian girl went off to join Emil, Sala and Michele. Chris waved from the stands as he and Malik disappeared together... meaning that I automatically got my first pick. Victor turned to me with a grin. "Want to go sightseeing too?"

I frowned. Actually... not so much. "Can we just find a really nice coffee place or something? Somewhere warm where we can just sit and talk and relax. Is... is that okay?"

Victor sighed with relief. "Oh my god,  _yes_. I'm too tired to do actual stuff." I laughed. I sympathised.

I... I just wanted to spend time with him, with my Victor. I didn't really care what we did.

* * *

* * *

"Yuri?"

"Hmm?"

I giggled as Yuri lowered his latte, and I reached out and wiped the foam off his lip. He narrowed his eyes at me, both telling me he was perfectly capable to taking care of the foam himself... and  _don't tempt me_. He glanced about the room, and then leant over and kissed me quickly, once, twice. Then we just grinned, noses touching, my thumb running patterns across his knuckles. This was nice.

After consulting half a dozen blogs online, it hadn't taken long to narrow down where we wanted to just while away the rest of the day; Small Batch, according to a pamphlet on the table, actually originated in Sussex, England, and... they do really good coffee. Yuri commented when we arrived that he needed somewhere like this when he was at college in Detroit, might have actually studied more and graduated on time if he could have studied with coffee like this in a place like this.

There were Kilner jars of brown sugar at every wooden table; driftwood, it looked like. We were in luck, and two men vacated a sofa just as we arrived, so we claimed it quickly, sinking into the cushions with contented sighs. The cafe was surprisingly roomy, with several alcoves, contemporary artwork on every available wall. There was bar seating, the stools high at a bench lined with charge points, each one occupied by a student or the student's backpack, coat and selection of scarves, hats and gloves. Over half of them had University of British Columbia hoodies, either a generic one or a sports team's, and the bench was heaving with laptops, iPads, textbooks and notebooks. Yuri whispered with a smile that it made him feel nostalgic, made him feel old. There were groups of friends circling tables and laughing over gossip, families enjoying a moment off their feet, a few new couples on what were clearly early dates, and others sharing a comfortable, quiet moment like Yuri and I.

One nice thing; it was tied. There were just as many straight couples as there were gay couples, as there were lesbian couples. And I could  _definitely_ tell; no hiding. There were held hands, kisses, adoring looks, special smiles. So Yuri momentarily blushed when I pulled his legs over my lap, rested my hands on his knees, and we sat shoulder to shoulder, in an alcove at the back to avoid being spotted and bothered by the odd fan (not that we would have minded too much, but... the time to ourselves was nice).

I looked around, just in case. We had the room to ourselves, the afternoon quietening the cafe, and between the rugs, the close walls, low ceiling and soft jazz playing, as long as I kept my voice down... no one would hear us. "I love you," I told Yuri quietly. I'll never tell him this enough.

Yuri kissed me again. "I love you too," he said against my lips.

I can never be told this enough, I must admit. I felt better, after talking to Chris and hearing his thoughts, after using him as an outside sounding-board and coming away feeling like I was making good decisions. I needed that confidence again, that knowledge that... that I wasn't making a mistake. As Chris commented later, our voices lower, the Victor he had once known would have fled, would have given up, wouldn't have even wanted to keep going, keep trying... would have taken the easy way out. It had never even occurred to me to give up. All that I wanted to do was... was...

Mossy boulders, I thought. "Can I ask you something?"

Yuri pulled away a little, so we wouldn't go cross-eyed. "Of course." He chuckled. "I didn't think you needed my permission to ask questions."

I pinched his knee gently. "It's... it's a serious question."

"Oh." He took my hands on his lap over mine. "Okay."

I bit my lip... I was a little nervous about this question. He frowned, his eyes darting to my teeth on my lip. "Did... err..." I chuckled at myself. Come on Victor, it's not that hard. "Did you want to get married properly whilst we're in Canada?"

Yuri blinked at me, taken-aback. Well, at least I surprised him. "Eh?"

I shrugged, feeling... well, silly. We were already married, in our own way, and we had been in multiple forms of engagement. It was a little ridiculous going through so many different levels - not even levels, that would imply a hierarchy between commitment, cohabiting, civil unions, and marriage. There shouldn't be; whatever works for you. "I was just thinking... if we had planned ahead, we could have actually gotten married here, officially. I mean, we might still be able to, but -"

"Victor." I stopped. I was babbling after all, was relieved even to be interrupted. Yuri squeezed my hand, looking uncomfortable. "Is... is that something you want to do? Get married here?"

Erm... My eyes widened uncomfortable. "I... only if you do?"

Yuri's eyes widened too. "Ano..."

We just stared at each other for a moment. Then I realised how absurd we were being and started laughing. Yuri blushed, and then started laughing too. "We're being idiots," he pointed out.

I nodded, and then sat up; I had a stupid idea. "I know! Let's just answer on one-two-three!"

"Eh?!"

"Come on! That way we can just say exactly what we think, nice and quick, like pulling off a band-aid." I beamed.

Yuri stared at me like I was mad for a moment (correctly), and then... he looked at me determinedly. "Okay... okay." And he pulled his legs back and sat up too, ready. "Victor."

"Yes?"

"On three, do you want to get married in Canada? Oh, chottomatte... is this yes or no, or can we say -"

"Whatever you want!"

He looked a little relieved. "Okay. Right... ready?" I nodded, trying not to grin. Here we go... "Right... do you want to get married in Canada, one, two, three -"

" _I don't mind_!"

We both blinked. We had  _both_ said exactly the same thing. We looked at each other and started laughing again. "Shall we not bother then?" I asked, laughing still.

Yuri nodded, grinning. "I... Victor..."

"Hmm?"

My Yuri looked at me with such love. "We're already married, as far as I'm concerned. We got married in our garden, with our family and friends -" My heart fluttered at 'our family'. "- and... Canada doesn't really mean anything to me, to... to us. We don't live here, neither of us, it... it wouldn't be recognised anyway in Japan, so it wouldn't even make a difference." He took my hand. "Marry me properly when it becomes legal in Japan, or Russia, whichever is first. Otherwise... it's just a piece of paper that doesn't mean a great deal in any sense. To... to me, anyway." He frowned at me. "Anata... how long have you been thinking about this?"

I blushed. "Umm..."  _Der'mo_... "Since Koh Ai..."

Yuri's hand clenched over mine, a reflex. "Victor..."

I threaded our fingers together, relaxed. "It's okay. I just... I wasn't sure when I proposed what kind of wedding we would want. I didn't want some elopement to Vegas, didn't even need to ask if you wanted that -" My Yuri shook his head emphatically, making me laugh. "- And... I loved our wedding. It was perfect, for me, for you, for us... I just didn't know if, by now, you might have wanted more whilst we could." I frowned. "Did... did you not even think about it, when we started arranging to come here?"

He blushed. "Ē to..." He nodded slowly. "Of course I did... but..." He shrugged at me. He'd already told me why he didn't think more of it.

I smiled. "Wakatta." I leant forward, so we were forehead-to-forehead, and our eyes drifted shut. "Yuri?"

"Hmm?"

"When we can, marry me properly in a place we call home."

Yuri's hand fidgeted in mine, and then he tugged them out to grip my jumper, over my chest. I grinned, let my hands slide to his waist as he nodded emphatically, kissed him. "Hai... hai..."

You might think that we're a little weird for doing this so many times. This was our third engagement, so to speak, for our second marriage. But... practically speaking, things are not equal, and so it is not simple. And...

I need Yuri to know that I'm his, until I'm dust. He needs to know this. And I need to know that he's mine. He needs it to combat the doubts that plague his mind, the doubts that he hates, and I need it so that I know that... so that I know that I will never be lonely again.

Even if (when, we hope) Japan legalises marriage, we'll still have re-commitment ceremonies. Our first anniversary was a pretty big deal; we held  _Onsen On Ice 3_ , just as an excuse to have everyone return to Hasetsu before the season started, and had a small party at our house again. There's some noise (companies have offered to sponsor it) about making it a regular exhibition event, but... we'll see. Yuri's not keen... neither am I. It's particular to us, not corporations looking to make money.

Anyway.

Yuri and I settled back into the sofa, closer, happy. He ran his hand over my cheek, and I leant into it. "Any other serious questions?" He teased.

I grinned. "Plenty, I'm sure."

"Hmm." Yuri leant forward, kissed my cheek, just because. He nuzzled the spot with his cheek, thinking. "I've got one..."

My turn to pull back so I could pay attention properly. "Nani?"

He smiled at my Japanese. Then he chewed his cheek, and - "Kids."

My turn to also look at him blankly. "Eh?"

Yuri's cheeks flamed red. "Erm... do you want to... I mean... I don't know how we'd do it, adoption or surrogacy or... ano..." Yuri took a deep breath, even closed his eyes, nervous as hell. "Doyouwanttohavechildren?"

My stomach clenched. "Umm..."

He slowly opened his eyes, looking... Yuri looked terrified.

We'd never really talked about it. It... it's not exactly something I would think to bring up with him. And... well, Yuri had never brought it up either. People used to joke ('when we hear the pitter-patter of feet?'), but... it's an awkward joke to make with two gay men, or certainly it is with us. Nature didn't fit us with ticking clocks, nor do we have to suffer the social pressures that women face. Plus... I was thirty, fast approaching thirty-one. That doesn't necessarily mean anything, but I mean... Yuri was twenty-seven then. There was just short of four years between us. That doesn't always mean anything, but... it can, in many different ways. Men, just as much as women, can yearn for children, for parenthood. And from Yuri's nervousness... I couldn't tell whether that was something that he...

I gulped nervously. "Umm... one-two-three?"

He started, nonplussed, and then smiled, relieved a little. He nodded.

Deep breaths. I counted down. "On three... one... two... three -"

"I don't know..."

"No..."

We both looked at each other with surprise. I suspect that neither of us had expected each other to answer that way. And, of the two of us... I was the one who went safe, and went with uncertainty.

Yuri looked down at his hands. He looked shocked at the single word that had come out of his mouth, and... no, moya lyubov'... he looked ashamed. I reached out to him. "Yuri..."

My husband looked up at me uncomfortably. "Do you... do you really not know...?"

I frowned, feeling... well, ashamed too. This one-two-three thing should not have been deployed on this subject, and it was too late now to approach it with subtlety. "I..." I tightened my grip on his hand. "Really, probably not. It's really not something I've ever properly considered for myself, or... well, wanted." I shuffled closer to my husband, wanting to comfort him. "You don't?" He paused, and shook his head slowly. "Any... any particular reason why?" Yuri shrank into himself. "Hey... it's okay not to want kids."

"I... I feel like I should..."

I pulled my Yuri into my arms, settled his head on my shoulder, rubbed his back, stroked his hair. A damp spot on my jumper appeared. "Yuri, it's okay. Having children's a big deal, particularly for us. Not something to fall into, or go 'oops' about or... Yuri, it's okay."

He murmured something into my shoulder. I didn't catch most of it, other than 'grandchildren'. "Yuri, I'm pretty sure that your parents aren't expecting you to do anything that you're not comfortable with." I kissed his head. "They never have, they're..." I smiled, picturing them. I could picture Hiroko-okasan's ever-understanding patience, Toshiya-otosan's easy-going, never-pressuring nature.

I wasn't naive, I knew that Yuri was referring to the notion that, as the son, he had duties to his family to continue it, to ensure its prosperity. Strictly speaking, Yuri would one day inherit the onsen, even though it was his sister who actually worked hard for it, and it would be his duty to manage it. I already knew that Yuri would always defer to Mari-neechan when it came to YuTopia, indeed to most things, though whether they had ever had that discussion I don't know. I suspect not. Actually, more pointedly I think that they both understand each other anyway; the onsen's _hers_ , not Yuri's.

Yuri doesn't ever mean to lose his grasp of how lucky he is to have his family. Not just in Japan, but  _worldwide_... he is lucky. He's told me how his parents, his sister have supported and encouraged everything he's ever done. There was never a question of growing out of skating, nor did they ever press him to go to university. There has never been a single time in his life when he has not felt loved by his family. There was never a question about him returning, in supposed disgrace, after he completed his degree to figure out what he was going to do next. They have never pressured him to 'fix' his anxiety, but have done their best to calm him through his panic attacks, never pushed him to be anyone else other than himself.

Katsuki Toshiya, Hiroko and Mari are not warriors (well... Mari-neechan is. There's a reason why Yurio calls her Boss-Sis). They are not destroyers. They are not fighters. Insult them, and they'll laugh, mean words bouncing off their glowing skin. They... they are willow trees; when the typhoons hit, their long branches will sway in the winds, but they will not bend, they will not break. There are trees with stronger roots, that dig deep and cling to the earth with such strength that they seem invincible... yet come the end of the storm season, it'll be the willow trees that are still standing, even if they have lost all their leaves. They will regrow those leaves. The others will not.

Such goodness does not make them rare, and the world is all the more beautiful for it, even though it manifests in so many different ways. Their son is all the more wonderful for it. But Yuri is still lucky. He knows that. He resents the times when he knows it, but cannot _feel_ it.

And they have never treated him like he is in their debt. They have never treated Yuri like he owes them anything. Not his loyalty to the onsen above all else, nor even their family's name and welfare when they are too old to run the onsen. And certainly not grandchildren.

I pointed out all of this to him, rocking my husband gently in my arms. He sniffed, nodded, not disagreeing with any of it, smiling even at the thought of such blessings. "Yuri... tell you what. I've made up my mind, no 'I don't know's. We're not becoming parents until we both  _want_ to. No... nothing about duty or grandchildren or anything like that. I don't want to bring a new life into the world or foster a child knowing that it's so that they can fulfil a purpose or anything like that. Enforcing pre-destinies doesn't sound like good parenting to me. We're young anyway. One day we might change our minds. We can afford to wait until then, if 'then' even comes."

Yuri nodded, brushing his face against my jumper. "O-Okay..."

I pressed a kiss into his hair. "Until then... we're having poodles."

A beat. Then he burst out laughing.

"Oi, I'm not joking, I'm being completely serious," I teased, laughing too, not at all serious. "You don't have a choice about this, we're having lots and lots of poodles. Fur-babies instead of human babies."

Yuri laughed afresh, until he had stitches. "I... I love you..."

I smiled, dusted his cheek with kisses to keep him smiling. I'd much rather he smile over our future than cry over it. With one exception.

I let him fall into giggles, cuddled up on that sofa in that coffee shop, pulled his legs back over mine. He settled his head on my shoulder, my arm around him, our free hands entwined. He looked up at me with a soft smile. "Any other serious questions?" I hesitated. He beat me to it. "I've got one more..." I waited, curious. "Do you want to carry on living in Hasetsu? Or... do you want to go back to Russia?"

He'd surprised me again. Less than before, but... hmm. I was certain about this one though. "One-two-three again?"

"On... Russia?"

I nodded.

"Okay... one, two, three -"

"No."

"I don't mind... eh?"

My turn to surprise you, moya lyubov'. I stroked his arm. "No," I said again.

"Not... at all...?" Yuri asked, shocked.

I pulled a face. "Well... I don't know about that. But right now, and for at least a while... no." I smiled at him contentedly. "I love Hasetsu, Yuri. Truly. I love our house. I love your family, and being close to them. I don't... I don't have family, Yuri. I don't have good memories of Russia anymore. I don't have  _bad_ memories either, but... I was alone in Russia for a long time. And... life would be more difficult together in Russia."

I sighed. I wish I could speak better of my homeland, but... I will always have nostalgia for my childhood there, for my youth when I was proud to compete for Russia. Nothing will ever replace that. But my adulthood has... my focus on my career has kept me lonely. That's my own foolish fault, but that's how it was. Now that my career as a competitive skater is over, and given that it ended by not even being able to represent my country in my last Winter Olympic Games, there's nothing left there to keep me. Even the time when we both lived in my apartment is stained by the memory of Yuri's fall.

Whereas Hasetsu... is where I found the love of my life. It's where I gained a mother, father, sister. I have found both life and love there. It's home.

"Yuri..."

"Hmm?"

 _Kamisama... onegai_...

"I've been thinking... f-for a while now..." I met my husband's eyes. He looked nervous on my behalf. I've never had that before him, had someone who shared my fears for me. "I know that we joke about double-barrelling our names, but... Katsuki-Nikiforov's a bit of a mouthful."

Yuri chuckled, nodding. "Well... yes."

I smiled. "I... I was thinking of changing mine. Officially. Properly." I swallowed as I watched the humour drain from Yuri's face. "There's... I don't... I don't think there's much point in you changing your name to Nikiforov because... it doesn't really mean anything... I mean... it doesn't mean  _family_... whereas..."

"... Victor...?"

"Would... would your family mind... would  _you_ mind if... if I changed mine to... to K-Katsuki...?"

Yuri stared at me.

And stared at me.

I lost my nerve. "I... I don't know how I'd go about it, and I haven't... I haven't done anything to try, I haven't even looked it up properly yet or anything, but... but if you don't want that, then that's fine, that's okay, really! I -"

A tear fell down into Yuri's glasses, straight down his cheek. I panicked. "Yuri, no! Don't cry! I... it's okay, really, we don't have to -"

"Hai..."

I stopped waving my hands about in a panic. "... What?"

Yuri started, raised his hand to the stray tear, as though he hadn't realised he was crying. Another fell from his other eye, making him laugh. "Gomen, Victor... I... I'm just..." His mouth wobbled, and I realised he was actually smiling even as he was crying. "I'm just so...  _I'm so happy_..." he whispered. Oh... my own eyes watered. He smiled at me properly then. "I'd love that. And I'm sure Oto-san and Oka-san would love that too." He beamed. "Katsuki Victor... it sounds okay! I can get u-used to that..."

I couldn't help it... soppy sap that I am, I burst into tears. Yuri didn't even question it; he just let me cry, let me bend into his stomach, bent over me, stroking my back soothingly.

At the time of writing, the lawyer is taking care of it. One day, formally, it'll be a bit much: Katsuki Victor/Victor Katsuki (nee Nikiforov). We both think that we'll keep the 'Katsuki-Nikiforov School of Figure Skating' going though. And... Oto-san was very moved when we returned from Vancouver and I asked for permission to take his name. He got out the very special sake that he'd been saving, and sobbed to all the regulars that he was getting another son.

(Yurio took photos of me sobbing too. The hangover was hell...)

I'm lucky too.

* * *

* * *

They were so annoying at dinner... all lovey-dovey and over each other - literally they didn't stop holding hands until food came. Then Victor started feeding Katsu poutine... UGH. Even Katsu thought he was being too much. " _Victor_..." EW.

I texted Otabek.

> You'd think they were pregnant or something... gross.

I got a reply back. Mila must have stolen his phone.

> ARE THEY???

Of course they bloody weren't. Victor can't keep good news to himself for even a minute.

I don't get the big deal about him changing his name, but... whatever. Apparently this was big news, Victor was so excited to tell me, and then didn't give a damn when I just stared at him. (Okay, whatever.) If it makes the Old Man happy. Katsu-sensei looked happy too, so... good for them, I guess.

At least Katsu knew that Mr Extra was getting on my nerves, and changed the subject. "Are you nervous for tomorrow?"

No. Of course not. Don't be stupid.

I'm Yuri Plisetski. I am a Grand Prix Final Gold Medal winner, in my Senior debut to boot. I beat  _him_ for that medal. Since... I am a multi-Gold medal winner, and a... okay, so I never beat Victor. I get Golds when Victor didn't compete. Whatever. I mean... not whatever, that... that sucks, but... it's _Victor_. _No one beats Victor_. Not even _him_. (Except that World Record.)

I can do this.

It's my year.

Grandpa... don't take your eyes off me. You'll... _would_... have been so proud of me... You would have been so proud of me.

"Yuri?"

I looked up from my phone, at Katsu's knowing smirk (yes I know my generation are brats and we all just stare at our phones at dinner and its rude and I don't care... wait... he called me by my name...). Then his face lightened. Still knowing. "He'll be watching. You're going to be great."

Coming from the one person I know who's more nervous about anything... that's...

That's kind of cool.

* * *

To be continued...


	28. Interlude - Sochi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this :-)

_Everything on the Ice_

* * *

INTERLUDE

Sochi

* * *

* * *

I'm shamelessly-ashamed to admit that the first time I did meet Yuri, properly, it was at the banquet. It might amuse you to know that we skipped the part when we told each other our names. It was, after all, unnecessary, although at the time of course it might have been a shock to Yuri that I already knew who he was by the time we danced.

So really, the first time I _truly_  met Yuri was months later when I was naked in his parents' onsen. But it all worked out, so it's fine.

What I mean is... before the banquet, Yuri was already in my periphery, but not... umm... oh for god's sake, he knows this already... I wasn't paying attention.

I'm not proud of it, the fact that he was so out-of-sight-out-of-mind in the very beginning. Don't get me wrong, every time I did lay eyes on him my eyes would linger. My darling husband is, and always has been and always will be, so very darn cute. I liked what I saw from the first moment that I saw him. I just... didn't think of him a great deal in between sights...

So I saw him check-in with Celestino Cialdini - _'ah, that_ _must be his student, the one they're talking about, Kats-something'_ - saw how unflattering the cut of his coat was and wondered why he was wearing one of those masks, which complete with his glasses and his beanie hat (I didn't blame him for wearing that at least, it was admittedly very cold in Sochi), made his face completely obscured... until he pulled the mask down with a single finger to answer a question from Ciao Ciao.

 _Oooh hello_...

So let's be honest... it was his ass. The first thing about Katsuki Yuri that got my attention was his ass.

(And let's be honest... you're all nodding. You've looked too; you get it.)

Yuri's glaring at me. Like you could keep your eyes off of mine, moya lyubov'.

He's still glaring at me.

Then he was at practice... in his Mizuno gear and all the head-wear gone, but still hiding behind a rigid frame and wide eyes all loudly indicating nervousness. I sympathised; we were all new once. Chris even warned me off being myself;  _'don't be so unfair to him right before the Short Program'_ , he said,  _'or we'll have to call a medic to deal with a cardiac arrest. Say hi when it's all over'._

Well, he was right. None of us were to know about Vicchan, and Yuri's subsequent grieving and homesickness and anxiety, so... I would only have made things worse, I suspect. Who knows.

I remember he flubbed his salchow at practice. I remember he did it early in practice too, which had a knock-on effect on everything else he did; the steps he practiced were awkward, too obviously nervous, suffering from both too much concentration and too little, from over-thinking what he was doing to not paying attention. A pity, I even thought then. Where was the promising Ace of Japan that was said to have steps and spins like no other, who had qualified  _third_ in the rankings for his first Grand Prix Final, whose PCS scores were threatening mine in the record books? Not in Sochi, it seemed. A shame... Japan's Ace was  _hot_. Both Chris and I were deliberately skating laps  _behind_ him for the view... like pervy, leery old men, we shouldn't have done that.

It _was_ a very nice vi-

My husband is glaring at me again. Move on, Victor.

I remember stretching whilst watching his Short Program. It... wasn't bad. It wasn't... it wasn't great either, but... I remember feeling disappointed that it hadn't been better, and understanding completely when Yuri left the kiss and cry as soon as he was able to, and why he made a beeline for the toilets. I remember Ciao Ciao standing guard outside without even a sigh; this, it seemed, was normal for him.

Subsequently Yuri missed Chris' performance. I wondered later if he came out and watched mine... I found out much later that he forced himself to, but it only made him feel worse. I was his benchmark, the bar to which he had been aspiring... and had missed. It was why, when I was his coach, I never objected when he turned off the screens so he didn't see the others performing.

He actually finished fifth that day. It was Michele's first entry into the Final too, there was only a couple of points between them. But... I reset my own World Record that day... they weren't going to catch up. At the end of that first day the only questions seemed to be around pairs; who would be the bottom two, Yuri or Michele, who would make the Bronze medal, Cao Bin - his last year before he retired - or JJ, and whether it would finally be Chris' year to beat me.

Yuri doesn't remember what he did that night. He didn't go out however, that much he's certain about. He doesn't like remembering.

I watched his warm-up for the Free, and it went even worse than practice in the run-up. I wonder now if my presence actually made it worse, but I do remember feeling embarrassed for him. I also remember thinking, stupidly, that I... this really will sound stupid... that I envied him. It was his first Final, whereas it was my... tenth, just for the Seniors? God knows how many in total? And... it was possibly my last, if the rumours were to be believed, though I refused to admit I was thinking of retirement, to anyone or myself.

I was twenty-six still then. It didn't feel as old as twenty-seven, the distinction between being in my mid-twenties rather than my late-twenties being very forgiving.

Anyway, my point is that I thought Yuri had so many more Grands Prix ahead of him; he could recover from this, could only get better. Ultimately I was right about that, even though I had no idea... well, how wrong I was too.

I had already seen his Free Skate, on my phone, from his qualifying events. A very different experience to watching it live. Well, live on the TV in the corridors of the stadium.

Funny how memory works however. I don't remember Michele's Free Skate, or Cao's, or JJ's or even Chris'. That's not because I didn't watch, up until I needed to prepare for my own performance, but... they're not important anymore. At the time... Yuri's was not particularly more significant compared to theirs, other than he was the cutest of the bunch. And I remember watching and thinking...  _oh_ _. Not going to give me a run for my money after all, as everyone's been saying. That's a shame_.

And truly, it was a shame. Selfishly, less selfishly, and selflessly. Chris had been my only true contender for several years, and even then... well. It would be my fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final Gold medal. Chris was an exceptional competitor but... not enough. Nevertheless competing against him for all of those years was... well, it was an honour, of course, but more than that...  _it was fun_. It was fun pitting ourselves against each other, trying to one-up each other on the ice, and then laughing about it when we were done. We - all of us competitors, not just Chris and I - found each other inspirational, could learn from each other, could admire each other's strengths.

Well, Yuri was no exception, as one of the fresher faces to the Final. His performance in Sochi was... there's really no point in lying, it wasn't good. His heart wasn't in it, and it was plain to see. It was uninspired, and thus uninspiring... it was disappointing, thinking that I might have found inspiration there, looking forward to it even, and finding none.

He vanished again as soon as he could, to be shouted at by Yurio in a toilet cubicle, but... I'm afraid I didn't notice. I had a medal to kiss upon my podium, press conferences to get through, a single congratulatory drink with Chris before having to suck up to sponsors at the banquet, and then -

Then there he was.

In that  _hideous_ suit and tie... ah. I'm being glared at again.

I kept noticing him, as Yakov lectured Yura over banquet etiquette (it was already funny at the time, watching Yurio fume, and it's even more hilarious now in retrospect). I remember being surprised that Yuri had worn his glasses, given how tantalising he looked with his hair styled and his eyes bare for the ice, and then realising that I approved. He looked cute anyway, but more than that, it wasn't what people might have expected, if they expected anything at all. Then again, he looked so awkward standing next to Celestino as his coach buttered up the Mizuno representatives on his behalf ("just wait until the Nationals, everyone will be rapt for it!" Celestino was saying).

Our eyes caught as he looked about for a distraction. He started, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and... sadly, horror. It was so jarring it took a moment for me to decide how to react... wink? Smile sympathetically (I was talking to Aeroflot at that moment)? Wave even? I went with a smile in the end, I think, but... he blushed madly, excused himself from Celestino and the Mizuno people, and escaped to the drinks table.

Over a dozen glasses later... so yes, in a way, it was my fault. I certainly told the officials that, saying that it was my influence, that I had egged Yuri on to drink that much and cause such a scene. They weren't best impressed, but I was grinning at the time when I made my apologies on everyone's behalf, so I hardly looked sincere anyway, but... well... I'm Victor Nikiforov, what were they really going to do?

Yuri's telling me it wasn't my fault. _I know_ , moya lyubov', I hardly poured the flutes down your throat for you, that was all _you_! But I wish I'd done a little more than give a measly smile. But then again, it all worked out  _wonderfully_ , so the regret is barely half-assed.

Past this point, Yuri's memories get hazy at best. Like his dance-off with Yurio, he thought that was his mind's imaginary way of one-upping Yura after the scene in the toilet. Yuri doesn't remember pole-dancing at all (or so he tells me anyway... don't look at me like that! I wish you did remember, you were magnificent!) but he did think that he dreamt of Chris pole-dancing in his purple pants, and he thought he had a confused dream of dancing very closely with Chris seemingly in mid-air.

He didn't remember dancing with me, not really... which... stung, when he told me... until we went home, back to Hasetsu after Barcelona. I... I was hurt that he couldn't remember, so I stubbornly put the same music on in my room and made him dance with me again, and... _it was amazing_. Without even thinking Yuri replicated some of our moves together, sober and laughing, both of us more comfortable in t-shirts and pyjama bottoms. I threw my arms round him when he said, sheepishly, that it was giving him massive deja-vu.

The first time however... he grabbed my hand. I remember this, with such, such fondness. Yuri grabbed my hand, and pulled me in to dance with me. He'd just jumped down from the pole, leaving Chris to carry on showing off, and I was still taking photos, laughing my head off, and then... then there he was. I teased him, grabbed his discarded trousers from the floor and shoved them into his arms before I danced with him. He laughed right back, nearly stumbled as he stuck one leg in, grabbed my shoulder to remain upright. He didn't even do his trousers up properly, and we kept laughing every time they started to fall down again.

Drunk Yuri was such a camera glutton to begin with... well, the pair of us. We showed off our best moves to our growing audience, until we only had eyes for each other, were showing off to each other, everyone else forgotten. I...

It was like nothing I had ever experienced before, or so it felt anyway. My eyes were ravenous for him, for Yuri's smiles, and my hands greedy for the warmth of him, any of him that he would give me. I was smiling so much and laughing so hard I felt like my joy was exploding out of me, felt the glow of it like the Sun at point-blank range was inside my chest. I had no time to analyse anything that was happening as we danced, I just  _danced_. I danced with Yuri until I was out of breath, until my thighs were burning from not stretching properly before, until I was sweating in my suit, until...

Well, until someone abruptly turned the music off and I caught a glimpse of Yakov's purple face, of Yurio's shaking fury, until the world reminded me it was still there. And my heart sunk... I wanted to stay on that beautiful plane where it was just the two of us, Katsuki Yuri and I.

As if realising he was losing my attention, Yuri's trousers gave up holding on to his hips again, and he  _threw_ himself on to me, wrapping his arms round me tightly. "Vik-TO-ru! Don't stop!"

I flustered. I didn't want to stop, but... Yuri had me in a vice anyway, I couldn't move even if I wanted to. "I..."

"Hmm..." He nuzzled his red cheek against my chest, and muttered something in such slurred Japanese that I suspect I could have been fluent at the time and still not had a clue. Then he frowned, turned his face square into my chest, and squinted at point-blank-range. "Anatahadare...? Kuso... Where... glasses?"

"Oh..." I managed to get an arm out of his grip and fished his blue-framed glasses out of my jacket pocket, where I had saved them earlier, and, because he wouldn't let go, put them on him myself. He squinted up at me still, and his face lit up and he threw himself at me again, shouting my name, pronounced so thickly. He grinned again, said something in Japanese again, and...

Umm...

(Don't blush...)

... Started grinding against me...

Just... so that we're clear... I love it when you grind on me, moya lyubov', but maybe not in front of everyone. I might not have a problem waltzing around an onsen naked, as one does, but I'm not that much of an exhibitionist... don't look at me like that, I'm not!

Hmph.

Anyway, it was a little awkward. If he had been sober, and we weren't in the banquet hall after the Grand Prix Final surrounded by people's cameras, then... well, it would have been very nice, understatement of the century ther. But otherwise it wasn't... well, it wasn't a turn on. I just stared down at him, slightly shocked. After all, a minute ago he'd been the sexiest creature I'd ever seen, so lithe and carefree and breath-taking, and then he was... it was like a gear had clinked into place, and Yuri was upgraded to a different level of drunkenness that was clingy, messy and slurring. I sympathised. I get like that too, but not that night.

Later, I found out from a Japanese official roughly what Yuri said, though even he had had to piece it together from Yuri's Kyushu slurring and then translate into English for me. Something about a hot spring, his parents, an invitation for me to visit on vacation, and winning the dance-off. None of that really meant anything to me, particularly as all I heard was slurring, 'sheason', 'onsen', 'dance-battle-de', and saw how red his cheeks were, the brightness of his eyes behind his glasses, how cute his nose was, until...

_"Be my coach, Victor!"_

And life as I knew it was over.

"... Da..."

Then Yuri started snoring. I shit you not. Full on piggy-snores too. It was...  _adorable_.

* * *

* * *

I... I really did think it was just a dream. The memories faded like it had been. And came back upon reminders...

I dreamt that I danced with Victor Nikiforov. My idol, my hero, my reason for everything I did. That we... that we fell in love under bright lights in a ballroom somewhere, the envy of the world. I dreamt that he had a smile that he only smiled at me, heart-shaped and filled with joy that had never been found in my posters or his interviews or even on the ice in his performances. I dreamt that I was someone he would smile at like that...

... It wouldn't have been the first time that I dreamt such a thing, so... it's... it's so stupid, really, how easy it was to make myself believe that that was all it was when I woke up in the morning with sore limbs and a pounding head and a stomach eager to empty itself.

I...

Victor, Anata? Tell me the rest again. I didn't even dream of it, don't remember any of it. Tell me again.

* * *

* * *

I caught you.

Whilst my breath got stuck in my throat, overwhelmed with... well, I'll do that justice in a second, but... whilst I gasped for breath, you made an upright pillow out of my chest, and  _nuzzled_. Which just made the whole thing even worse. But at least you had stopped grinding into my crotch...

I  _adored_  you. You, Katsuki Yuri, who was snoring against me, your bare legs slack, your tie around your head, glasses wonky, and your face round from happy grins even as you snoozed, was...

You were the brightest thing I'd ever come across, moya lyubov'. I'm not sure I have words to truly describe how it felt, going from burning in your sun on the dance floor to... but I felt like possibly I had died. Maybe this was death, feeling this much for one person.

Then, as I slowly realised that  _everyone_ was watching... I felt naked. My brain was struggling to wrap itself round the idea that I might have just fallen in love at first sight, and meanwhile Chris was at my side in just his pants, holding your trousers, looking more amused than I had ever seen him, and Yurio's teeth were loudly grinding somewhere behind me. And Mila was laughing her head off somewhere in the room.

 _Get him out of here_. It was the first time that I felt protective of you.  _Get him to bed so he can sleep it off._

"Yuri...?" I gave you a gentle shake, and you came to briefly, looked back up at me,  _beamed_ , cried out my name again in jubilation - ' _VikTOOOR_ ' - and managed to once again jump on me again, wrapping your legs around me as well, and I nearly stumbled as I caught you. I blushed, even more than I already was. You mumbled into my shoulder, possibly words in your home dialect, possibly just babble like babies make in their sleep. It was...  _cute_.

"C-Chris?" I turned my head to my friend, ignored the smirk he gave me. "Can... can you find the rest of Yuri's things for me?"

Now I think of it, it never occurred to me to tell him to find his own clothes and put them on. Christophe for you. His eyes flickered to where my arms were wound round your back, holding you up, and he shrugged, going with it, and tossed your trousers across his shoulder and went looking for your suit jacket and shoes as I turned. I ignored Yurio glaring at me, walked straight past slowly with you in my arms towards the door and to the elevator. It was a little tricky pressing the button, but I managed.

You tightened your arms round my neck. "Arukemasu... can walk..."

I laughed gently, tightened my arms round you too. You, Baka, made no move whatsoever to unwind your legs around my hips. "Can you now?"

You huffed. Then I felt you grin at my shoulder. "Smell nice."

I smiled at that. "I doubt that, I'm all sweaty from dancing."

"Still nice." I heard you gasp slightly, and you adjusted your grip on me again, like you were hugging me. " _You_  are nice..."

I smiled at that too. Tried not to  _really_ smile too much. "You're nice too."

Understatement of all time. Appearing at my side, in just his open shirt and trousers, Chris snorted. "Is that your idea of a pick-up line, Victor?

Your grip tightened again like a flinch, possessively perhaps? But mercifully the elevator pinged open. I got in, hesitated at the sight of the floor options. "Der'mo. What's his room number?"

Chris got in with us and started going through your jacket pockets. "Is it on his room key?" I doubted it; they were generic keycards, programmed at the desk at check-in, but at least Chris found it in your jacket. "Let's ask at reception. Hey, Yuri, would you like to put some trousers on, mon cheri?"

I chuckled when you vehemently shook your head. You still hadn't let go. "Yuri, do you remember your room number?" I asked gently.

You made a confused noise into my shoulder. "Room num-number? Don't have number,  _letter_." Letter? "B. Dorm B." Dorm? I looked at Chris, who shrugged again. I was sure I'd seen you check into the hotel with Celestino, not a hostel. "With Phichit-kun!" Except it sounded like you were sneezing, so I didn't understand that maybe you thought you were back in Detroit perhaps, and that you were still in the university's dorms.

The elevator doors pinged open again, and Chris led the way out into the lobby, approaching the reception desk. I followed, headed towards a sofa that was in the waiting area, thinking to set you down, but you still wouldn't let go, half-asleep again, so I turned and sat instead, sighing a little now that I wasn't carrying your weight (no, you were not heavy, but... you were still heavy. You know what I mean). You humphed in protest as you felt the leather under your knees, pulled away to scowl at the sofa, though what its offence was I'm not sure, as in that moment I realised that... umm... you were straddling my crotch, and if you moved too much... ah...

You looked at me again, and your face lit up again. I couldn't help it; I smiled at the sight of your smile, at how your eyes creased until they were almost closed, at the lines at the edge of your mouth. I wanted you to smile at me more, just like that. "Hi."

"Hi." I felt like a sunflower. Just keep shining on me like that.

"Did -" You hiccoughed suddenly, making me laugh. It was either that or moan, from our movements jostling your seat in my lap. "Did I win the -  _hic_ \- dance-battle?"

You looked so excited at the prospect. I grinned, and nodded. "Yep. Decision was unanimous."

You frowned - I should have picked an easier set of vocabulary perhaps for your drunken mind to translate - but just then someone came in through the hotel lobby doors, and a blast of freezing wind howled in, making you instantly shiver, and you were back in my arms again, bending to rest your head on my chest, seeking warmth. "Kōrudo..." I didn't know what that meant, but I guessed, and I rubbed your back to warm you up in answer before I could even think to stop myself. Then you looked up, confused about your surroundings. "Koko wa doko...? Where...?"

"We're in the lobby, Yuri," I told you. "Chris is checking which room you're in, so we can get you to bed."

"... 'We'...?" The frown deepened on your face, and your body started to shrink into itself. My eyes widened as I realised you thought you might have stumbled into some kind of menage-a-tois scenario. Never with me, moya lyubov'.

"Hey..." I sat up, put my hands over your clenched, nervous fists. "It's alright. I'm going to put you to bed, so you can sleep off the champagne, that's all. Okay?"

You looked at me with wide-eyes, as though you were surprised that... well, you looked like you were surprised that you trusted me. It was more words than perhaps I should have used, but I think you got the 'I-you-bed-sleep-that's all', so you nodded, rubbed your eyes. "Sleepy..."

 _So cute_... Then Chris came over and ruined my moment. "Come on Yuri, your night of debauchery and shamelessness is over, I think!"

Your eyes widened even more, perhaps partly at how loud Chris seemed to be speaking - at that time in the night even I thought it was a bit much - but also because I suspect now that... that you'd already forgotten all of your antics in the ballroom. You looked up at Chris like you weren't sure who he was - I didn't blame you, Chris still hadn't buttoned up his shirt, so he could hardly say much about debauchery and shamelessness - and then down at me like... like you was asking for help. For safety.

Of course, I didn't know about your anxiety then. But... I'd had more nights than I should have had getting so drunk I could no longer look after myself and had to look to others to get me home. It's not... particularly when you're drunk and swaying with the tide of intoxicated moods, it can be incredibly vulnerable, hoping that your friends won't let you down when you can barely focus your eyes on their faces to be sure that they're who you think they are. And Yuri, you were in a country that you were neither from nor lived in, the closest thing you had to a friend in Sochi was Ciao Ciao, and your only company were two of your competitors.  _Me_.

I thought that maybe it was like that for you then... and you was looking to me for security. My heart melted even more for you, and I smiled reassuringly and helped you up to your feet. You still clung to me anyway. I smiled, feeling honoured to be so trusted and needed for protection, and tucked you under my arm, walked towards the elevators again with my arm round your shoulders tightly, and you stayed pressed against my side, stumbling on unsure legs. Once back in the elevator you... you turned your head into my chest, away from your reflection in the mirrors, in the metal panels. I let you... it felt nice to be needed like that.

When we came out of the elevator, following Chris, all of my attention was on you, on making sure you stayed upright, didn't trip over your own ankles or over mine. You looked exhausted, moya, and... miserable. Again, I thought it was just the alcohol; it is a depressive after all. Chris opened the door for us, held out your clothes to me, and wisely and generously stayed outside. I switched on the lights, tested the switches as you winced at the brightness until only the bedside lamps were on, a softer light, and shut the door in Chris' teasing face.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," I said gently, and pulled back the covers. You sat down on the edge of the bed, looking a little lost even in your own room. I took off the tie from your head with a chuckle, placed it with your things over the back of the chair at a desk, and then went back to you.

I remember this so clearly, the look you gave me... You looked up at me like you couldn't believe I was there, like you'd forgotten for a moment that I'd been there the whole time. I couldn't blame you; I had not remotely imagined I would be where I was in that moment either. I smiled, put my hand on your shoulder. "It's okay," I whispered.

Slowly you nodded, yawning (you even looked cute yawning), and laid down, groaning as your head hit the pillow. I smiled, plucked off your socks and tucked the duvet around you, took your glasses and put them on the side. "Want anything?" I asked.

You blinked at me, still disbelieving. "Ano... water..."

I nodded, went to the bathroom, got a glass and filled it from the tap, went back. You sipped it briefly, and I took it and placed it on the bedside table, kneeling at your side. "Anything else?"

A pause, and then you shook your head. You looked sad... like you knew the moment was about to end.

I realised then that I had run out of reasons to stay. I... I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay, look after you as you slept, look after you as you woke. I...

Oh Yuri... I wanted a lot more than that. I wanted to kiss you good night. And then kiss you some more. I wanted to... it was embarrassing at the time, as I had never really wanted to do these things with anyone else, but I... I wanted to _spoon_  you. I wanted to scoop you up and stroke your hair and kiss your cute nose and sleep to the sound of your heartbeat in my ear. I wanted to take you out for breakfast, just the two of us away from the eyes of everyone and get to know this extraordinary enigma before me, and I wanted the morning to come right there and then so I could do that, having no patience. I wanted to take you home to St Petersburg and learn everything about you, skate with you every day, and... remember why I loved skating to begin with.

But... you was so drunk that night, moya lyubov'. I would have been... I would have been taking advantage. No. Just no. I wanted to kiss you when you were sober, when it was day and I could be sure that you wanted to be kissed. I wasn't even sure if it was okay to do such smaller things, like stroke your wondrous black hair, or even touch your cheek.

I'd found a connection that night, and I wanted to remain connected. I didn't want the night to end.

"Victor...?"

You sounded so sleepy. I gave in, tentatively reached out, paused my hand just before your ear, waiting for you to flinch away - _you didn't_ \- and then ran my fingers through your hair, smiled as your eyes fluttered closed, your face naked with... contentment? Bliss? What was it that you felt then? I'm not sure, but it certainly didn't look bad.

"I want you to know, Yuri Katsuki," I started, smiling so much I could barely get my words out, and you opened your eyes again, amazed to see me again, "that this was one of the best nights of my life. I'm glad we danced tonight."

You blinked, processing my words, and then smiled. Gently, your bright eyes swallowing me up whole. "Watashi mo..." You breathed, and then translated. "Me... me too..."

_I wanted to kiss you so much..._

But I didn't.

I smiled at your reply, tucked the duvet up again around your chin. A habit was born; this is what we do, we keep each other warm. "Good night, Yuri. I... I hope I'll see you tomorrow."

Then, with great reluctance, I stood, switched off the light, and left in the dark. The door clicked shut behind me, and I came face to face with Chris.

"That was quick," he teased, winking.

I frowned. I wasn't in the mood. I didn't even bother saying anything.

 _I wanted to go back..._ but the door was closed behind me now, with no way back in, and it remained a bad idea.

"Mon ami, don't look like that," Chris said, looking chastened. I'm not sure what I looked like, but eventually Chris told me; I looked crestfallen. I looked awful. "I'm sure you'll get to see him before we all fly out."

"Hmm." I couldn't shake off the bad feeling I had in my gut, the feeling that told me I should have stayed, slept in the empty twin bed in his room so I'd be there in the morning with you. But even now that still sounds like a foolish idea. I took a step away from your room, and another, until eventually I stopped thinking about _walking away_. "What time is your flight?"

Chris shrugged, fell into step with me, his concentration fixed on finding some hidden clue in my face. "Not until the evening. My gear is still at the rink, Josef wants me to do some interviews there too. You?"

"Same." I didn't have many words left, tired too.

Chris chuckled. "You look like you've fallen in love, Victor." I said nothing then either. He whistled. "With Katsuki Yuri even... who would have thought it?"

Ah, I thought as I looked back at an indistinguishable hallway, waiting for the elevator again, unable to remember which room was yours. Is this what it's like, falling in love? I didn't know that it felt like your heart was in a cement mixer, or that every poet who had ever used heat to describe love was absolutely spot on. There are so many cliched descriptions I could use, and none of them would be completely accurate, even altogether, even cumulatively. I suppose the best I can do is say that it was both wonderful and awful at the same time.

Seems so silly now though, Chris' words. In the very early days, everyone was surprised that someone like me went for someone like you. Now, after being together for years, those same people come back and tell me they can't think of who else I might have ended up with, that they can only see me being happy with you, and you with me. But then... maybe it was because I'm Russian and you Japanese, or because I was at the end of a glittery career and you had barely begun yours, or because I'm loud and you quiet, or... who knows really. I can't say I ever imagined what my perfect partner would be like, because... well, because I didn't really think that I would ever find one, so you have nothing to compare yourself to, and even if you did you would still far surpass any figment of my imagination. Really of the two of us, I'm the one who struggled to compare to expectations...

You're shaking your head at me... what -

**You've always been better than my imagined version of you too, right from the beginning. No matter how anxious I might have been.**

I know, but... it took a long time to get from that night to... well, a very different night in a different hotel in Beijing.

Even after all this time, I still struggle to stop thinking about you. I say struggle to stop thinking of you, I really don't bother trying to stop myself. I did try to stop, after that first night in Sochi, after...

It's strange, thinking of a time when you could turn a corner and I'd forget you. I don't like remembering it; it feels like... like I failed you somehow, even then when we weren't anything to each other. You mean so much to me, moya lyubov'; you should have always meant something to me, from the moment I laid eyes on you, watching a Youtube clip on my phone in the locker room in my home rink, because Yakov told me to check you out.

I think that... I feel like I should never have doubted anything, because I know how many doubts you carry. If I have none, I can help you with yours. My therapist told me that wasn't a good idea, I'm trying to figure out what to replace it with.

**... That I'll help you carry yours too. That we'll help each other.**

... Oh...

Yuri... what went through your head when I suggested a... what did I call it?

* * *

* * *

I place my hand over my husband's. "A commemorative photo, you said."

Victor looks up from the screen of the laptop, looks up at me, uncertain. "Was it really such a stupid thing to say...?"

Oh Victor. I shake my head. "No, Anata."

I reach out and close the laptop, peel off my glove and reach for his cheek. In my skates, I don't need to reach up to kiss him over the barrier.

He knows that I didn't remember anything of the banquet in that low, hungover moment. He knows that I thought he didn't know who I was, that I thought he thought I was just a fan. He knows that I thought that I had failed to be his equal, and undeserving to be in his presence. He knows that feeling like that cost me the Nationals a couple of weeks later, and my qualifications into the rest of the season; yet another thing to feel terrible about on top of losing Vicchan, the stress of my finals, the feedback loop of my weight gain.

He knows... or at least, I hope he  _knows_ , because I have told him, many times... that none of it was his fault, that he could have said anything in that moment and I still would have reacted badly. I could  _only_ have reacted badly.

I wonder, sometimes, what might have happened if... if I had drank less, and could remember more in the morning. If I had opened the door when Victor knocked, how I would have reacted at the sight of him with two coffees and his heart-shaped smile, my room number begged out of Ciao Ciao. If I hadn't walked away, if I'd actually taken that photo with him. So many ifs.

But here we are anyway.

I break away, head to the nearest exit from the ice, grab my guards and hobble into them. When Victor comes to me I wrap my arms round him, bury myself into his warmth where the best of the world is.

Victor's right; love at first is a cement mixer, churning and constantly turning and twisting until you're dizzy. Our love isn't like that anymore, and hasn't been for a long time. Our love is like this; an embrace that I can feel from the ends of my hair to my toenails, of shared warmth against the cold, of touch that feels healing because I know that the feeling is mutual. It is smiling automatically at the sight of each other. It is holding a dream together, staying together and always watching out for each other.

I kiss my husband again, so that he knows. "Skate with me?"

Victor hesitates, then nods. He chuckles as I bend to tie his laces for him - how many times have you done this for me, Anata? - and take it in turns to help each other out of our guards, and then it's just us on the ice.

The operation on his knees took their toll, but Victor's nearly there. My silly, wonderful husband thanked me once, for smiling the very instant he woke from the anaesthetic, so that my smile was the first thing he saw. He didn't owe me thanks at all, I just did it; the first thing he said was my name. But he thanked me because the rest was all frustrating, being an invalid for a while, being so completely reliant on doctors and nurses and then just me at home. Then the pain of stretching out tested legs to walk again, and then slowly to run again, and recently to skate again. I've forbidden him from jumps, though I'm sure how much longer he's really going to obey me. Victor told me, when he started skating again, that he always understood why I retired after I broke my leg, but now he really understood. I kissed and hugged him, understanding too.

Also frustrating, for both of us, were the limits in bed. Knees are somewhat crucial, even if you try and keep still, which neither of us have ever managed to do. I never knew that Victor spoiled me on that front, for the most stupid of reasons... eh...

 _"Yuri, I've been having sex for over a decade. Before me you've had_ no years. None. Nada _. I refuse to let you settle for infrequency brought about by domesticity so quickly, so damn straight I'm going to make sure, before we turn into old men and we can't get it up, that you're so satisfied that you'll forget your own name and think that mine is yours from screaming it."_

... Baka.

... Watashi no subarashī baka.

(No, I'm not complaining. _Really_ not complaining. Kuso... I want to go home already...)

It's strange; this year again we won't be doing another exhibition pair skate. Yet we came up with one anyway, a while ago; Victor started drafting it in Vancouver, just in his head at first. We only ever skate it for us, though only a handful of our nearest have seen it. Yura saw it, before he left, and Yuuko-chan and Nishigori-kun have both seen it, but the triplets aren't allowed to until we're sure they won't put it up online; Victor's condition, not mine, as it would count as his first 'public' performance.

You already know the music. Because of Victor's knees there aren't any technical components, as he slowly relearns all of them - it's a nice feeling, teaching him now, just as he taught me once.

But of course we created  _Victor & Yuri On Ice_ together.

* * *

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the fact that I managed to get a whole two 'acts' (if you will), out of procrastinating before the Grand Prix Final.
> 
> Next up, and I warn now that it WILL be a while (I have a shit-ton of stuff to pull off by the end of the summer), it will finally be the Short Program. Which means you will get music-listening-requests...
> 
> I have a favour to ask of you, Reader... Please wish me luck. The next time I post I might be in another country, or packing to do so. Please wish me luck for that. Writing this, and Sleeping Beauty, is going to be my reward for certain stepping stones, so that I remain sane, but I'm about to turn my life upside down in the best of ways, and it's scaring the shit out of me, again in the best of ways.


End file.
